The much anticipated next Night 4 page someone in the present.”
So saying, I stroked the nightstand with
my right hand. Tables, doorknobs, and
other fixtures were high-traffic areas for
emotional imprints. At once, multiple
images flashed across my mind. I weeded
through them until I found the strongest
thread. Then I concentrated on it, seeking
the person at the other end of that invisible
essence trail.
The hotel room morphed into an office
decorated in shades of beige. A
fortysomething man sat behind a desk,
balancing the phone with his shoulder as
he grabbed a notepad.
“No, that’s not what we agreed on,”
he said as he scribbled away. “I don’t
care what her lawyer wants . . . for
fuck’s sake, she’s already getting half my
check in alimony and child support!”
Even though everything was slightly
hazy as images in the present were, the
word BITCH on the notepad was clear.
You shouldn’t have kept cheating on your
wife in no-tell motels, I thought, dropping
the link and willing myself back to reality.
Maximus stared at me without blinking.
“Did it work?”
“Yes.”
A ruthless anticipation began to swell
in me. Now I could start hunting for the
person who killed Marty. I still didn’t
believe it was Vlad, but if I was
wrong . . .
“Maximus, thank you for pulling me out
from under the wreckage, healing me, and
bringing me here. I owe you my life.” I
paused to take in a deep breath. “But now
you need to go.”
Both golden brows rose. “What?”
“If Vlad is behind this, I can’t trust
you,” I said bluntly. “You might like me,
but we both know you’re not going to
betray centuries of allegiance over a
passing fancy.”
I expected a lot of responses. Laughter
that sounded like stones grinding together
wasn’t one of them.
“You don’t know me as much as you
think you do,” he said, and then grabbed
my right hand. My power responded,
yanking me out of the present into his past.
Multiple wounds covered me, but I
was jubilant. The Holy City was once
again ours.
“Allah Akbar!” a voice wailed above
our shouts of victory.
Fools. If their god truly was great, we
wouldn’t have retaken Jerusalem. The
survivors of the battle, mostly women
and children, stared at us with
frightened loathing.
Then my cousin Godfrey’s voice rang
out. “Men of God! Destroy the filth that
befouled Jerusalem. Let none survive!”
I froze. Sunlight glinted off hundreds
of swords as the other soldiers raised
their weapons. Then the swords fell to
the accompaniment of high-pitched
screams.
“Obey!” the knight closest to me
urged. He showed no hesitation as he
hacked at those in front of him.
“God wills it!” Godfrey continued to
roar while he joined in the destruction.
“We must cleanse this city!”
A form hurtled toward me. By reflex, I
caught it, looking down on the
tearstained face of a boy, his brown eyes
wide as he sobbed out a plea for mercy
in his native tongue.
Abruptly, he sagged, blood spurting
from his mouth. The knight next to me
yanked his dripping sword from the
boy’s back.
“We have orders,” he barked. “Do not
refuse. God wills it!”
I dropped the lifeless boy. Then, jaw
clenched, I raised my sword and started
toward the survivors.
I snapped back from that gruesome
memory with slivers of electricity
shooting from my hand. At some point,
Maximus had let go, wise since I now
wanted to aim those currents at him.
“I know what you saw,” he said flatly.
“It’s forever burned into my nightmares.
For the sake of allegiance, I once
followed a terrible order. Afterward, the
guilt nearly destroyed me. I will not be
that man again. Vlad is ruthless when
protecting his line and casualties of war
happen, but he’s never murdered innocent
women or children. If that has changed,
then so has my loyalty to him, but not for
your sake. For mine.”
I stared at Maximus. I’d expected he
had a dark sin—most people did,
especially centuries-old vampires—but I
hadn’t anticipated what he’d shown me.
“How could you have fought in that
battle and been changed into a vampire by
Vlad?” I finally asked. “Didn’t the
Crusades take place hundreds of years
before Vlad was born?”
He smiled tightly. “They did, but the
Knighthood of the Temple of Solomon had
secret rituals. One of them involved
drinking blood instead of wine in a
mimicry of the Last Supper. For members
of the original eight Templars, as I was,
the blood wasn’t human, though we didn’t
know it. We thought our increased strength
and accelerated healing came from God.”
“You were tricked into drinking
vampire blood?” Wry snort. “I’ve been
there. When did you find out what it
was?”
“Centuries later when I met Vlad. In
truth, it was a relief. I thought I couldn’t
age because God wanted to keep
punishing me for spilling innocent blood
in His name.”
Some of the anger I’d felt melted away.
What Maximus had done was awful, but
he’d lived with the guilt for longer than I
could imagine. He didn’t need more
recriminations from me.
“Um . . . all right.”
Such a trivial response, but too much
had happened the past several hours. I
rubbed my head, feeling Vlad’s essence
flare underneath my fingers. He’d left
imprints all over me. I dropped my hand,
not wanting to accidentally link to him.
With his mind reading, he was one of the
few people who could tell when he was
being psychically spied upon. It was how
we met, and in the unlikely event that he
had tried to kill me, I wasn’t about to let
him know he’d failed.
My eyes burned at the thought, but I
forced the pain back. Survival first, then
heartbreak, I reminded myself bleakly.
“I need to go back to the carnival,” I
said to Maximus, “and you can’t come
with me.”
Chapter 9
“Ilook ridiculous.”
I didn’t turn, but continued to stride
through the remains of the employee
parking lot as though I belonged. We
passed a few reporters mixed in with the
throng of onlookers. The explosion
brought out the gawkers as well as the
bereaved.
“You’re the one who insisted on
coming.” Spoken low so only he would
hear me. “At least you no longer look like
a reincarnation of Eric the Red, which is
noticeable, by the way.”
A scoff. “And this isn’t?”
Now I did glance at him, taking in the
thick black hair covering every inch of his
exposed skin and the pronounced brows
I’d applied with glue and some modeling
clay. Considering the time crunch, I’d
done a good job making him look like he
had hypertrichosis, more commonly
known as wolfman’s disease.
“Not at a carnival it isn’t.”
My disguise was less dramatic. I wore
a short blond wig that matched the color
of my new shaggy beard, plus about two
pounds of gel inserts to give me the
double-D’s that nature never intended. My
waist and butt were similarly padded,
rounding out my figure into unrecognizable
proportions. Stage makeup covered my
scar where the beard didn’t, and dark
glasses completed my incognito look.
Well, incognito for a carnival. Most of
them had at least one bearded lady.
From the glare the barrel-bellied
policeman threw Maximus and me, we
succeeded at blending in.
“I told you people to stay back,” he
barked.
I hefted my fake boobs higher in their
corseted confines. “My trailer was barely
damaged,” I said, pointing at an RV that
had the least amount of soot. “Why can’t I
go in to get my purse? I need money to pay
for a hotel room!”
“You noticed the big explosion, right?
Once we finish our job, everyone can
come get their stuff. Until then, stay with a
friend. Doesn’t wolfie have a pack he can
call?”
The officer turned to go after his caustic
rebuttal, but Maximus’s growl stopped
him. Guess he was taking his new disguise
seriously.
“You want me to—” the officer began,
only to fall silent as Maximus’s gaze
flared, mesmerizing him at once.
“Let us through,” he said in a low,
resonant voice.
The officer bobbed a nod.
“Absolutely.”
There were days when I envied
vampires. This was one of them. “Good
thing you came. I’d hate to wait and risk
them erasing all traces of the killer’s
essence,” I murmured as Maximus and I
ducked under bright crime scene tape.
Even with the fake hair, I caught his
grim expression. “So would I.” Then to
the newly compliant officer, he said,
“Walk with us. If anyone asks, we’re
witnesses you’re interviewing.”
Considering all the policemen, firemen,
gas company employees, and other
personnel hurrying about, we had a few
minutes before we were stopped. With our
new escort, we headed to Marty’s trailer.
Even several hours after the explosion,
the air was still thick with a mixture of
gas, burnt rubber, and other, unspeakable
things. I forced myself not to gag, but the
urge was strong. So was the urge to burst
into tears when I saw the blackened,
hollowed shell that had served as my and
Marty’s home for years. Half of it was
gone, either disintegrated from the
ferocious heat or blasted into innumerable
parts.
Staring at the ruined husk made the full
reality of Marty’s death hit me. A small,
foolish part had secretly hoped he’d
survived and hadn’t heard me when I was
yelling for him last night. That hope
extinguished as thoroughly as his life
would have when the explosion went off.
The destruction was so complete, I
doubted they would find enough remains
for me to bury. Despite my resolve, a
warm, wet trail slid down my cheek.
“Don’t,” Maximus said softly. “This
isn’t the time.”
I swiped at the errant tear and squared
my shoulders. He was right. Grieving
would come later. Now, I had to find out
who snuffed out Marty’s life. Yet looking
around, I wasn’t sure where to start. The
large crater in front of what used to be
Marty’s trailer? Farther up the gas line?
“What have you found so far?”
Maximus asked. I turned, but the question
wasn’t directed at me.
“Last of the fires were only put out a
couple hours ago, so not much,” the
officer replied in a monotone. His light
brown eyes were fixed on Maximus as if
glued. “Five dead, three more missing.
Gas company’s got the power off so we’re
checking the pipes. Found something in the
pit near a twisted hunk of pipe—”
“Show me,” Maximus interrupted.
The officer began to walk toward a
tented area swarming with people wearing
ATF jackets. I tugged at Maximus’s
sleeve.
“There’s too many of them,” I
whispered.
“Come back,” Maximus told the officer,
who obeyed at once. “Get the object and
meet us outside the east section of the
barricade. Don’t let anyone know what
you’re doing.”
The officer left. I followed Maximus to
the section of the barricade where there
was the least amount of spectators. After
ten minutes, the portly officer was back.
“Here,” he said, pulling a bag out from
under his shirt.
I took it, my bulky rubber gloves
dispelling any fingerprint concerns. Those
had been the next priority after Maximus
purchased all the necessities for our
disguises. Then I held up the bag,
frowning. The clear cellophane revealed a
few crumpled bits of wire and what
looked to be a shard of plastic.
“That’s it?”
The officer nodded. Maximus drew me
to a lone hut about thirty yards away.
Before last night, it had been a concession
stand. Now it was empty, the harsh scent
of chemical smoke replacing the popcorn,
cotton candy, and funnel cake aromas. I
took my right glove off with a sigh. I’d
leave fingerprints this time, but I had no
choice. Then I stroked the piece of plastic.
The first thing I relived was an
investigator finding this shard. From his
thoughts, I knew it wasn’t plastic, but
titanium, a material sometimes used in
bomb making. Underneath that, I had the
faintest impression of another person
digging in the dark, but the essence trail
was too weak. The fire must’ve burned
most of the traces away.
“You were right. Doesn’t look like an
accident,” I said.
“I knew it,” Maximus muttered. “Did
you see who did it?”
“No.”
I stroked one of the wires next,
disappointed when the only impressions
were from another crime scene
investigator. Then I touched the final wire
and the concession stand vanished.
I whistled as I pressed the wires into
the plastique, then used thin surgical
forceps to twine the ends around the
trigger. After examining them, I closed
the shell over the device and leaned
back, taking off my mask. Finished. I
gazed proudly at the bomb. By far my
best work. Pity no one would appreciate
its intricate design, but most of it would
disintegrate on detonation. Just as the
client wanted.
That image dissolved and I was back in
the concession stand with a huge vampire
disguised as the wolfman. I smiled at
Maximus with a coldness I hadn’t thought
myself capable of.
“I’ve got the bomb maker.”
Chapter 10
His name was Adrian, and it took two
days of linking to him to discover where
he lived. One of the drawbacks to finding
people in the present was not being inside
their heads. People didn’t have their
addresses tattooed onto their forearms, so
determining their location wasn’t always
easy. Adrian didn’t help me out that first
day, either. He mostly slept.
The next morning, he walked to his
local Starbucks, ordered a double shot of
espresso, and then read the news on his
iPhone. Twenty minutes later, Maximus
and I were on our way to Chicago.
He drove. Chivalry or control freak, I
didn’t know, and after several hours, I
didn’t care. I’d stayed up most of the
previous night trying to determine
Adrian’s location. On top of lost sleep,
linking to someone for long periods of
time drained me. I’d been determined to
stay awake in case Maximus changed his
mind about splitting up the drive, but at
some point between Atlanta and Chicago,
I nodded off.
I floated above a white hallway. Doors
were at either end, one wide with a
computer keypad that a curly-haired
woman sat beside, the others so
nondescript as to be drab.
That second set of doors opened and
Vlad strode through. His trench coat was
open, the sides fluttering like dark wings.
I gasped, trying to disappear into the
ceiling, but he didn’t seem to notice me.
He continued down the hallway at a pace
that had the doctor behind him running
to keep up.
The curly-haired guard rose. “Who
are you?”
“Shut up and open that door,” Vlad
snarled.
He’d passed by me, so I couldn’t see if
his eyes were lit up. Even if they weren’t,
the barely restrained violence in his tone
must’ve been enough for the female
guard. She punched in a few numbers on
the keypad and the wide door swung
open.
As soon as the doctor caught up, Vlad
grasped him by the collar, lifting him off
his feet. “Now, show me her body.”
Another snarl that throbbed with the
promise of the grave. The doctor nodded
as much as Vlad’s fist around his neck
allowed. Vlad dropped him, and once he
righted himself, the doctor hurried inside
the room, Vlad right behind him.
I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t
stop myself from floating toward the
open doorway. Before I reached it, I
heard a metallic creak and then Vlad’s
harsh “Now get out.”
The doctor ran from the room, his
head passing through my legs as his
body briefly converged with mine. My
formless state should have worried me,
yet I was oddly unconcerned. If I was
dead, there was nothing I could do to
change that. Plus, as long as I didn’t
have a real body, then Vlad wouldn’t
know I was here. I floated past the
guard, who was huddled behind her
chair, mumbling something that sounded
like a prayer.
Even though no one had been able to
see me thus far, I only peeked into the
room beyond. It had several metal tables,
a long sink with multiple basins, and a
wall made up entirely of what appeared
to be square steel cabinets.
Vlad stood next to an open cabinet in
the wall. A slab holding a black plastic
bag jutted out in front of him. His head
was bowed, dark hair hiding his
expression as he unzipped the bag. Fire
engulfed him from hands to shoulders as
he stared at its contents. Then, very
slowly, those flames extinguished as he
reached inside.
Now I knew where I was. A morgue,
and though I had a good idea of what
was in the bag, I had to be sure. I floated
over, keeping close to the ceiling, and
peered down.
My first surprise was how little it
contained. A skull, two femurs, and a
spine comprised the pieces big enough
for me to identify. After that, it was
anyone’s guess as to what the other
charred, smaller bits were. My next
surprise was seeing Vlad stroke the
bones. He traced the curve of the spine,
the length of the femurs, and then the
skull, all with a touch so gentle it barely
disturbed them. I still couldn’t see his
face, but the light piercing through his
hair was so intense that I half expected it
to burn the bones like twin emerald
lasers.
My biggest shock was hearing him
sigh, “Leila,” as he stroked the bones.
He thought these were mine? But Vlad
was in Romania and I’d supposedly been
blown to bits in Georgia—
Wait. Vlad had spoken to the guard
and the doctor in English. I looked
around. The signs were in English, too.
Had Vlad gone to Georgia upon hearing
of my purported demise?
If so, I wished I knew what he was
feeling at this moment! Satisfaction, if he
really was behind the gas line bomb? Or
grief, if someone else had planted it and
he thought this bag’s contents was all
that was left of me?
His head remained bowed, hiding his
expression. Look up, Vlad! I silently
roared. If he smiled as he stroked the
remains, it would confirm my worst
suspicions, but what if grief was etched
on his face instead?
Suddenly, he did look up—and seemed
to be staring right at me. It still didn’t
answer my question. His gaze was so
bright that his expression blurred by
comparison.
“Leila.”
I jerked, but it wasn’t Vlad who said
my name. It was another man’s voice,
accompanied by a hard jostle. I snapped
into alertness, the morgue transforming
into the front seat of a car. Maximus let go
of my shoulder, frowning before he
returned his attention back to the road.
“Must’ve been some dream. You
started trembling.”
I didn’t doubt it. My hands still shook
and I kept looking around the car as if
expecting Vlad to magically appear. I’d
had vivid dreams before, but none had
ever felt this real.
I glanced at my hands, relieved that I
still had my gloves on. They not only kept
my currents in, they also kept my ability to
accidentally connect to someone out. Not
that I’d ever linked to anyone in my sleep
before. Linking took concentration, and
sleep was the antithesis of concentration.
“You’re still trembling. Are you all
right?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s nothing. I don’t
even remember what the dream was
about.”
His raised brow said, Bullshit, more
eloquently than words, but he didn’t push
and I pretended that I hadn’t lied.
“Now that you’re up, link to the
bomber. We’re only an hour from
Chicago. If he’s not home, I want to know
where he went.”
Good idea. I pulled out the pouch I’d
stuck in the drink holder and then took off
my right glove. We’d returned the plastic
evidence bag to the officer minus one
piece of wire.
I rubbed that wire, bypassing the first
images to focus on the replay of Adrian
whistling as he made the bomb. His
imprint was as strong as before, but when
I attempted to follow it back to its source,
I came up against a brick wall of . . .
nothingness.
I tried again, concentrating until the
traffic sounds faded into soft white noise.
Though I focused with all of my might, I
couldn’t find anything at the end of that
essence trail.
“Is he still home?” Maximus pressed.
Frustration mingled with a sense of
foreboding. “I don’t know. I can’t see him.
Either I’m temporarily out of juice, or
. . .”
I didn’t need to finish the sentence.
Maximus’s lips thinned into a hard line.
Then he stomped on the gas pedal.
The flashing lights, crime scene tape, and
stench of smoke were becoming all too
familiar. We’d had to park over a block
away since the street Adrian lived on was
cordoned off. Though I couldn’t see any
house numbers at this distance, I’d bet
Adrian’s was the one that the firemen
were still hosing down.
“Son of a bitch,” Maximus spat.
“Whoever’s behind this must not like
loose ends,” I replied, while inside, I
cursed. I doubted this was a case of a
bomb accidentally detonating while
Adrian tinkered with it, though I was sure
it had been staged to look that way.
We still had a chance to see what really
happened, but we needed to hurry. Even if
the killer was still in the area, he wouldn’t
be for long.
“Maximus, go down there and get me a
bone off the body.”
Confusion flashed across his face. Then
he smiled. That was the last thing I saw
before he sped away, reminding me of a
large, charging lion. Less than a minute
later, I heard a gunshot and the whoop of a
police siren. Then he was back with a
charred hunk of something in his hand.
“Let’s go,” he said at once.
I grimaced at the burnt meat smell. If I
survived all this, I might become a
vegetarian. The reek didn’t seem to bother
Maximus. He tucked the chunk into his
coat and walked me back to our car as
more sirens went off. The cops probably
hadn’t seen every detail of what just
happened, but from the sounds, they knew
enough to be alarmed.
I got into the car, forcing back a gag as
the closed interior made the stench worse.
Maximus quickly sped us away. After a
few minutes, he took the blackened chunk
out of his coat and plunked it onto my lap
with a muttered “Here.”
I couldn’t help it—I shrieked. He
slammed on the brakes, causing the thing
to hit the windshield with a splat. I
shrieked again when it smacked back onto
my lap, smearing my pants with soot and
thicker, grosser things.
He looked around, one hand on the
wheel, another holding a large silver
knife.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I repeated, days of
pent-up grief and stress making my voice
shrill. “You slapped a smoldering body
part onto me without even a warning,
that’s what’s wrong!”
His brows drew together. “But you
asked me to get that.”
“I know I did!”
Frustrated, I swiped my hair off my face
only to feel something slimy. A glance at
my gloved hand was the final straw. I’d
just smeared blackened bomber goo onto
my cheek.
I flung the body part in Maximus’s
direction and got out of the car. My slimy
gloves came off next as I ran to the nearest
sidewalk. Then off came my jacket, but
before I threw it away, I wadded it up and
scrubbed furiously at my cheek. My shirt
also had revolting smears on it, so it went
flying, too, leaving me in nothing but a
bra, jeans, and sneakers. I dashed down
the sidewalk without any real idea what I
was doing or where I was going. All I
knew was that I couldn’t stand to be
covered in my attempted murderer’s
stinking goo for another second.
“Leila!”
I ignored the shout, not that it mattered.
Maximus caught me in the next heartbeat,
spinning me around to face him.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, rational
thought replaced by a wounded animal
mentality. “You’ve got him all over you!”
His coat and shirt were on the ground
before I could blink. At this hour, the
stores around us were closed, but
streetlights threw every inch of his upper
body into stark relief. Like Vlad, Maximus
had many faded marks from old scars, but
unlike Vlad, his chest was smooth. No
crisp dark hair, just pale, taut skin
stretched over muscles that rippled when
he folded me into his arms. He didn’t
flinch as currents slid into him from
touching my bare flesh. He drew me
closer instead.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “You’re
safe now.”
I hadn’t realized how much I needed to
hear that until he said it. All the pain,
loneliness, and grief from the past two
weeks reared up, seeking solace anywhere
it could be found. I don’t know if he bent
his head or if I lifted mine. All I knew was
he was kissing me, and for the first time
since this whole terrible ordeal began, I
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