Come to me, Celia.
He was in a very ordinary motel room. I recognized the decor—or lack thereof. The drapes had been pulled tight. The only light came from one of those little wall-mounted lamps. He was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room.
My sire looked like a kid of about seventeen or so. Dark hair, but with skin that had probably been as fair as mine even before someone had changed him. He was probably old as dirt, but he’d been young enough at his death that he couldn’t grow a decent beard. All he had was a wispy little soul patch. It looked kind of silly, which made him just a fraction less frightening.
You must come to me.
The hell you say.
He frowned, as if he heard the thought. Maybe he had. I mean, if this was real and not just some funky dream, then he was a daywalker. He might not be able to endure sunlight, but he wasn’t dead for the day, either. Even most master vamps can’t manage that. Which meant that while he might look like a teenager and dress like a teenager, he’d been around long enough to get very, very good.
Of course, it could be a dream.
The frown deepened. He turned his head so that I was seeing him full-on. His expression changed, and while his body was still young, the look on his face was old, old and corrupt with power. His pupils expanded until his eyes were almost totally black. I could feel the power of them sucking at me as he willed me to meet his gaze. It was like fighting an undertow in the ocean, a pull that was irresistible, relentless.
As if in response to that thought I began to smell the tang of salt water and fish, hear the familiar sounds of the beach, the crash of waves, the call of gulls.
What the hell?
I woke with a start to the sound of a light tap on the door. “Celia?” The room was dark except for the flickering lights of electronic equipment. Apparently I’d dozed off. When I hadn’t moved for more than ten minutes, the lights had shut off automatically, allowing me to sleep … like a dead thing. When I sat up they came back on. I blinked, trying to adjust to the glare and gather my muddled thoughts.
I wiped a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth and nicked the back of my knuckle on a fang. It stung for a second, then went numb. But the blood flowed freely—more freely than it should’ve. Swearing under my breath, I used the hem of my shirt to apply pressure on it, and called out, “Come in.”
Dawna didn’t come in, but she did crack open the door. All I could see through the opening was the tip of her golden brown nose and the reflection from her reading glasses.
“Celia, what are you doing in there?”
“Nothing. Printing, reading stuff the library sent me. Why?”
“Because about two minutes ago every speaker on every computer, cell phone, Bubba’s TV—everything—began playing ocean sounds. Crashing surf, whales, and seagulls. It stopped when I knocked on the door. But the source was this room. So I’m asking again. What are you doing in there?”
“Is that even possible?”
She gave the door a gentle shove, so that it swung fully open, allowing her to give me a look, but she stayed outside. She’d closed in on herself, hugging her arms to her body as though she were cold. But she wasn’t cold. Her body radiated heat … life that nearly vibrated around her. I felt drawn to that warmth, wanted to wrap it around me and ease the cold that was seeping into my fingers.
I watched her, standing in the doorway, her posture guarded as she took in every detail of the room … and me. I suppose she was looking for evidence of something weird or worrying. The only thing to find was the wet spot on the page where I’d drooled as I slept. Embarrassing, but hardly earth-shattering.
Of course she noticed. And for just a second her wary expression softened slightly. I almost believed I saw a flicker of amusement pass through her eyes. But if I did, it was gone in an instant, to be replaced by another worried look.
“Dawna, what’s wrong?”
“We need to talk. I read those notes from Dr. Reynolds, and El Jefe faxed a bunch of research to you on the downstairs machine. This thing that’s happened to you—it’s really serious shit.” Her voice sounded shaky, and I could see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat. I wasn’t hungry, in fact I felt a little nauseous, but I couldn’t not notice. I swallowed hard, dragging my eyes upward, making myself meet her worried almond-shaped eyes.
“Yeah. It is.”
“What’re you going to do?”
A part of me wanted to lie, wanted to give her the reassurance she so obviously needed. But Dawna’s my friend, one of my best friends. You don’t lie to friends. You just don’t. “Longterm—I don’t know. But if I want there to be a long term, I have to find the vamp that tried to bring me over and take him down. Preferably before dark.” I looked around, trying to find a clock. There wasn’t one. No windows, either. “What time is it, anyway?”
“It’s almost four thirty. Did you find anything useful in what the library sent?”
“Not yet.” Which was true as far as it went. “Lots of interesting stuff, but no answers.”
“Maybe there isn’t one.”
I puffed up my chest and imitated El Jefe at his most pompous. “In magic, as in nature, there is balance. Where there is a spell, there is a counter.”
She smiled, but not like she meant it. “Pretty to think so.”
“Dr. Landingham knows his stuff.”
“Absolutely. But this isn’t just magic. It’s anatomy. And that is a whole lot less … flexible.”
Just like the pull of my sire’s eyes was inflexible. He was still out there, still calling me. I just couldn’t hear it over the sound of the ocean. My muscles started to flex, to pull me to my feet. I wanted to leave, even though I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I could feel my will lessening with each moment, until— “Are you sure the ocean sounds originated from this room?”
“Like there was a boom box on full crank.”
I shook my head. “That is so weird. I wasn’t making any noise, but I could hear it in my dream.”
Her carefully plucked brows lowered even as she reared back a little and looked around the room. “Weird. Very weird.”
She was so right. Sadly, however, this was the least of my worries. I’d lost a lot of time snoozing. If I wanted to find and kill my sire I needed to find out where and how now.
It was time to visit Vicki.
9
One good thing about my nap—it had given my new phone time to charge. It didn’t take long at all to load the minutes on it. I gave Dawna the new number so that she could contact me if there were any new emergencies and dashed out the door. I dialed Kevin. Again it went straight to voice mail. “Hi, Kev. It’s me. I’m on the way to Birchwoods to see Vicki, to see if she can give me a lead on my sire’s lair. Look, I know you’ve got to go out to the desert tonight, so I’ll call you in the morning. Try not to worry.” Useless request. He was already worrying. But hey, it was the best I could do. And at least he wouldn’t be able to bitch at me about not returning his calls.
I also considered phoning ahead to Birchwoods to let Vicki know I was coming, but she has group from 3:00 to 5:00. By the time she got the message I’d be there. Besides, I was still a little shaken by my dream/vision. I needed a little time away from everything.
I did make a call to the phone number on the file I had on the prince. I got a recording telling me it wasn’t in service—all three times I called. Not good. I needed to deal with the vampire sire thing first, but tomorrow I was going to be checking in with the royal family. If Gibson didn’t like it, that was just too damned bad.
I set the cell phone on the passenger seat in easy reach and started the car. I took Ocean View rather than the expressway, telling myself that I didn’t want to get caught in bumper-to-bumper rush-hour traffic, but I probably would’ve done it anyway, to be near the sea. I drove the Miata faster than I should’ve over the winding roads in the lengthening shadows cast in the fading daylight. The ancient trees and tall walls had been landscaped in such a way as to provide security and privacy without looking grim. I could taste the tang of salt on the air from the breeze blowing in from over the water. The racuous call of the gulls was louder than normal, but I’m one of those strange people who actually like the noise that gulls make. Most people around here consider them rats with wings, like pigeons are back east. But I like them … the way they swoop and dance on the currents around the shores. I couldn’t ride with the top down, but nothing stopped me from opening the widows wide and watching and listening.
I was still feeling a little bit nauseous. Part of it was nerves. But I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. I can skip one meal without too much trouble, but if I let it go too long, I end up feeling sick, grumpy, and not at all hungry. I’d probably have to force myself to eat, but that would be later. First, I wanted to pick my best friend’s brain for any memories she had of her two years of vampire studies. Then I’d have her take a peek in that mirror I’d bought her, see if we could find any useful information.
If all else failed, I’d see if she could wrangle me permission to camp out overnight in the facility’s chapel. Assuming I could. Thus far I’d been doing pretty well against anti-vampire tools, but I hadn’t tested myself against holy ground. But hell, if I let myself think too hard about it, the list of things that were liable to be a problem would just overwhelm me. I needed to focus. Take one step at a time. Visit Vicki. Find a safe place for the night. Then, when daylight came and Kevin was back from his hunt, we’d talk and plan.
Thinking about my friends made me feel a little better about the whole mess. Not a lot better. But hey, I’d take what I could get. They’d stick by me, no matter what. They already had. And if there was an answer, we’d find it. All I had to do was stay alive long enough for it to do me some good. I could do that.
Maybe.
I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself that I was capable of getting a handle on the situation. I almost started to believe myself. Right up until the temperature in the car began to drop.