Her smile returned at the prospect of controlling such a being. Of having it at her beck and call. Of testing the power of its blood.
She listened for the sound of a baby but heard nothing. Maybe the vampire halfling was lost in daysleep like its father. Wouldn’t that be grand? Easy to get away with and simple to care for.
Down a hall and through a set of double swinging doors, she started checking rooms. In the last one, she found what she was looking for.
In what reminded her of a nativity scene manger, a pale, pinkish infant slept on an old quilt. Its eyes were closed, dark lashes fringed against its fat cheeks. Tiny fingers curled into fists, one of which rested near its rosebud mouth.
For a brief second, Aliza recalled Evie in her crib, the smell of her peach-fuzz head, the softness of her skin, her dovelike cooing… but Evie was human. This child was not. Not fully.
Stretched out on a military cot across from the makeshift crib was the halfling’s father. The vampire she’d come to kill. He, too, lay with eyes closed, but that was where the similarities ended. His shaved head, camo pants, and khaki-green T-shirt pegged him as the one she’d seen through the shifter’s eyes. Ugly cuss.
She reached into her bag, got a good grip on the stake, and inched closer. The baby shifted, making a soft mewling sound. She froze, glancing back at the tiny creature.
A cold hand clamped around her throat while a second snaked around her body and tightened on her wrist, squeezing until her bones ground together. Gasping from the pain, she dropped the stake. It clattered to the floor. The infant’s eyes fluttered open.
“You think you can waltz in here and steal my child? You’re wrong. Dead wrong.” He shook her, rattling the beads and bones tied into her dreads.
“Take your hands off me, bloodsucker.” She wriggled to get free, but it was no use. He was wickedly strong. Magic was her only hope.
He reeked of blood and formula, two scents Aliza had never smelled together before. “Did you kill my Julia? Is that why you’re here? To kill me and take our child?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She remembered he’d mentioned Julia to Doc, too. Must be the halfling’s mother. How was this monster not deep in daysleep?
He growled in rage. “The stench of blood magic and demons covers you, witch. You must be cleansed.”
“Cleanse this, you freak.” She jerked her head back into his nose. The sound of breaking bone rewarded her, but his grip didn’t loosen. She worked her fingers around in his direction, bent her head out of the way, and shot a blast of fire at him.
He ducked, taking them both down to the floor. The fire hit the ceiling, spreading along the dropped tin panels and dying out. The baby yowled. The vampire spun Aliza around, pinning her hands with his palms to prevent her from trying the fire trick again and laying his shins over hers. Blood leaked from his broken nose, splattering her face and mouth. She tried to buck him off, but he weighed a freaking ton.
His fangs dropped. “Who are you working for?”
“Get the hell off me.” She called fire again, this time letting it build in her palms. He’d feel the heat soon enough. “I ain’t telling you anything.”
He snarled, baring his teeth some more. “Then your time has come to an end.”
Dread wormed into her belly. The fire dancing on her palms died out as she tried a different tact. “I got a daughter, too, you know. You want to leave another child motherless?”
He leaned down a little more, dripping more blood onto her skin and into her mouth. “In your case, I would be doing her a favor.”
She spit his blood back at him. “You son of a—”
The vampire struck, nailing his fangs into her throat. She cried out as much from shock as from the white-hot pain. Her bones went brittle with fear. Death danced in her dwindling field of vision like stars, and as he sucked the life from her body, all she could see in the growing darkness was Evie’s face, the only sound she heard the wailing of the child she’d come to steal.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Doc stopped Mal’s old sedan by the gate at Chrysabelle’s estate, it was after noon. He and Fi had stopped for burgers on the way and eaten in the car. She sat beside him finishing the last of the fries. He spoke toward the intercom. “Hey, it’s Doc. Is Mal with you?”
“Yes, he’s here,” Chrysabelle’s voice responded through the speaker. “I’ll buzz you through.” A second later the gates swung open.
Fi pointed a fry toward the massive fountain that stood in the center of the circular drive. Parked near it was Creek’s V-Rod. “Chrysabelle got a motorcycle.”
“No, that belongs to Creek, the Kubai Mata I told you about.”
She stuffed the fry into her mouth. “Is he cute?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “He’s an ex-con with a lotta prison ink and a Mohawk. That sound cute to you? And why do you care?”
She swallowed. “Just wondering. You think he spent the night or just got here? I mean, if Mal spent the night, then… just wondering.”
Doc looked over at her. “You’re nosy, you know that?”
“I’m curious.” She raised her brows, smirking. “Like a cat. There’s no crime in that.”
He threw the car into park. “C’mon, crazy girl. Let’s go see Mal and get this over with.”
She grabbed his arm. “Look. There’s people in there.” She nodded toward the guesthouse.