Cara glanced at her father for reassurance, though she found little to reassure her. The smell of his singed flesh filled the confines of the room. The skin at his wrists was raw and bright red, as was the skin at his neck, ankles, and chest. His face was also badly burned. Though his expression remained impassive, she knew he must be in agony.
She tugged on the leather straps that bound her hands and feet. She had to get free, had to help him. She had always thought her father was indomitable. Since learning he was a vampire, she had assumed he was indestructible. It was frightening to see him subdued and helpless. If he couldn't fight Serafina, what hope did she have of getting away from the woman?
A movement at the other end of the table drew Cara's gaze. There was a sudden hush as Serafina lit a long white candle and placed it in a holder in the center of the cloth-covered table beside the crypt.
Shaking out the match, Serafina turned toward Anton, who held out his left arm. She filled a syringe with his blood and emptied it into a small glass vial. Next, she drew blood from her own arm and put it into another vial. In all, there were five vials on the table, along with three jars and a silver bowl. Serafina smiled at her son, and then she began to chant softly.
"On All Hallow's Eve, between dusk and dawn, the blood of kin must be drawn." She picked up an eye-dropper and dipped it into one of the vials. "Nine drops, no more, no less, the blood of kin you must bless."
She made a pagan sign over the eye-dropper, then slowly added nine drops of Anton's blood to the silver bowl.
"To this the blood of love you add, and the blood of an enemy, it must be had. Seven drops of each, one by one, quickly now, it must be done."
Once again, she added blood to the bowl, seven drops of her own blood, seven drops of Roshan's.
"Five drops of a maiden's blood," she intoned, and added five drops of Cara's blood to the bowl.
"Rosemary for remembrance." She sprinkled rosemary into the dish. "An infant's blood, three drops for life anew." More blood was added to the bowl. "A sprinkling of yarrow, a dash of rue."
Serafina added the remaining ingredients, then stirred them together with a silver spoon. "Spread the blood upon the crypt, when the moon commands the sky." Serafina knelt beside the crypt, her expression rapt as she poured the contents of the bowl onto the crypt and then smeared the bloody mixture over the top with her bare hands. When that was done, she nodded at Anton, who pushed the top of the stone crypt aside. It fell to the floor with a resounding crash, revealing the casket within.
"Call forth the dead, his name times three. Doubt not, and he will come to thee." Serafina stood, her arms lifted over her head, blood dripping from her fingertips. "Anthony!" she cried. "Anthony! Anthony!"
Cara felt a shiver run down her spine as Serafina's voice echoed off the walls. She felt the hair raise along the back of her neck and along her arms as a strange current ran through the room. She glanced at her father. Judging by his expression and the way he jerked weakly against his restraints, she guessed that he, too, had sensed the otherworldly power vibrating through the night.
Serafina continued to stare at the coffin, as if she could will her beloved to rise.
Anton frowned at her. "Maybe you did it wrong."
"No!" Serafina exclaimed. "I did everything I was supposed to do." With her bare hands, she ripped the
lid off the coffin. A horrible smell rose in the air. "Anthony, come to me!"
A low hum vibrated through the air and then, to Cara's horror, the body inside the coffin moved.
"Yes!" Serafina's voice was filled with exultation. "Yes, my love, come to me!"
And Anthony Loken rose from the coffin.
Cara stared at the thing that had once been Anthony Loken. His eyes glowed a dull red, his skin was pale; in some places, it had rotted away.
Anton stared at his father in horror. "Something's gone wrong!"
Serafina whirled around, her eyes wild. She held up her hand, fingers spread wide. "The blood of kin,"
she said, folding one finger down. "The blood of love." She folded another finger down. "The blood of an enemy. A maiden's blood." She stabbed her forefinger in Cara's direction. "Are you a virgin?"
Cara stared at the woman, wondering which would serve her better, the truth or a lie?
The witch turned on her son. "Did you touch her?"
"No, I swear it."
Once again, Serafina directed her attention to Cara. "Whore! Your blood was not pure! See what you've done!"
She turned toward the thing that had been Anthony.
The creature stood in front of the coffin, unmoving except for his eyes, which were filled with confusion.
"Mother, you've got to put him back," Anton said. "You haven't raised my father. You've raised a monster!"
The thing that had been Anthony Loken turned its head and stared at Anton. "Son?" His voice was rusty with disuse.
"Yes," Serafina said, her smile radiant. "Our son."
"Liar!" Loken roared.
"It's true, my love." Apparently unaware of any danger, Serafina moved toward Anthony, one hand outstretched, a smile of welcome on her face. "Anthony, my beloved, come to me."
Teeth bared, he reached for her. There was a sharp crack as he broke her neck, and then he tossed her aside.
Anton took one look at his mother's broken body and ran out the door and up the stairs.
Fear congealed deep in Cara's belly as Anthony Loken moved woodenly toward her. She screamed as he drew near, went weak with relief when he lumbered past her toward the stairway.
Vince's head snapped up as Cara's voice rang out in his mind. He had no sense of where she was, only that she was terrified.
With preternatural speed, he left The Nocturne. Where was she? He knew Mara could find anyone at
any time, but he hadn't yet perfected that part of his vampiric nature.
However, some things came easy. A thought took him to the library. Sarah Beth told him that Cara had gone outside with Anton a little after six o'clock and hadn't returned.
"I went outside at six-thirty and she was gone, though her car's still here, and so is her bodyguard's. I called her cell phone a few times, but she's not answering." Sarah Beth shook her head. "I've spent the last half hour wondering if I should call the police. Do you think I should call them?"
"No," Vince said curtly. He didn't want anyone to get hold of Anton before he did. Keeping a tight rein on his anger, he headed for Cara's house, telling himself all the while that there was nothing to worry about. She had dated Anton before; perhaps she was dating him again. He didn't believe it for a minute, but he clung to the thought in an effort to stave off an ever-increasing sense of dread.
He knew her house was empty even before he rang the bell. Something was definitely wrong. He could feel it in his gut. Fighting down a growing sense of panic, he headed for DeLongpre's house. He needed help, and he couldn't think of anyone more qualified than her father.
Brenna met him at the door. "Roshan, did you... Vince! What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for Cara. Do you know where she is?"
"No, and it's driving me crazy with worry. Roshan left here hours ago with Anton Bouchard."
"Bouchard!" Damn, what was Anton up to? Nothing good, that was for sure.
"Yes, I wanted to go with them, but Roshan told me to stay here. I overheard Anton telling Roshan that his mother had Cara."
"Do you know where they might have gone?"
"I have a feeling they've gone to that abandoned laboratory outside of town. I was just about to go out there."
"I'll go with you."
"I sent Frank to check it out He's probably there by now."
"Let's go."
It was strange, traveling at preternatural speed with another vampire. He had never done it before. They passed through the night like shadows, invisible to human eyes.
It was a peculiar sensation. Like everything else in his new lifestyle, it had taken some practice to master, and some getting used to. He wondered how long it would take for things like shape shifting and dissolving into mist to become second nature.
They reached the lab in a matter of moments. One of DeLongpre's cars was parked off the road, screened by a section of dense brush. Di Giorgio was waiting for them by the car. He carried a sawed-off shotgun. It looked very much at home in the crook of his arm.
"Have you seen anything?" Brenna asked anxiously.
"No. I circled the building. The only entrance is the front door, and it's locked."
"Come on," Brenna said. "Roshan's in trouble."
Frank went first, followed by Brenna and Vince. Vince nodded in grim satisfaction as a blast of the shotgun shattered the lock. So much for the element of surprise, he mused as he followed the bodyguard and Cara's mother down a flight of stairs, wondering, as he did so, why the threshold had no power to stop him. Perhaps it only worked on homes, he thought, and then he smelled blood and he knew the answer. Violence had been done here, shattering the threshold's protective power.
They paused in the first room before moving through it to another flight of stairs.
Again, Di Giorgio went first, his shotgun at the ready.
A cry of horror escaped Brenna's lips when she entered the room at the bottom of the stairs.
Coming up behind her, Vince swore a vile oath. The last vestiges of black magick hung heavy in the air, along with the scent of blood, death, and decay.
He stared at the woman sprawled facedown on the floor. It was obvious, from the angle of her neck, that she was dead.
He swept past Brenna to Cara. After freeing her from the restraints, he drew her into his arms. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "My dad..."
Vince glanced at the vampire. Roshan's eyes were closed, his skin the color of old parchment.
Brenna reached for one of the straps holding her husband down only to let out a harsh cry of pain as the silver burned her hand. "Frank! Do something!"
Setting the shotgun aside, Di Giorgio quickly removed the silver manacles that bound DeLongpre to the table.
"Roshan!" Brenna placed her hand on his shoulder. "Roshan, can you hear me?"
Cara went to stand beside her mother. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He can't be dead!"
"It's the silver," Brenna explained. "It's like poison to us. We've got to get him off that table. Frank..."
"I'll take him," Vince said. "Di Giorgio, you go on ahead, make sure the coast is clear."
With a curt nod, Di Giorgio scooped up the shotgun and moved toward the stairs. Brenna and Cara followed him. Both women glanced repeatedly over their shoulders to make sure Vince was right behind them.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Cara came to an abrupt halt. "Wait. The baby..."
"What baby?" Brenna asked.
"There's a baby in the lab. We can't just leave it."
"Who does it belong to?" Brenna asked.
"I don't know, but we can't leave it here." Turning on her heel, Cara ran to the lab and scooped the baby
from the crib. Still drugged, it lay in her arms like a rag doll. Crooning softly, Cara rejoined the others.
"Poor little thing," she murmured.
Vince stared at her. She made a pretty picture, standing there with the infant cradled in her arms. For a moment, he imagined she was his wife and that the baby was his. The impossibility of such a thing filled him with a nameless anger.
"What the hell are you going to do with it?" he asked gruffly.
"After we get my father home, I'll take the baby to the police and say that I found it. I'm sure the parents must be frantic."
"What if it's an orphan?" Brenna wondered aloud.
"I don't know," Cara said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Vince grunted softly as he followed her outside. He hadn't missed the wistful note in Brenna's voice. He couldn't help wondering if she was thinking about adopting another baby or, in this case, stealing one. But it wasn't his concern.
He settled Roshan in the back seat of Frank Di Giorgio's car. Brenna refused to be separated from her husband. Climbing into the back seat, she cradled his head in her lap. Cara got into the front seat with the baby, and Vince squeezed in beside her.
"Someone should burn that horrible place down," Brenna muttered.
"Maybe someone will," Di Giorgio remarked.
Seeing the expression on the bodyguard's face, Vince was pretty sure that the lab would be nothing but a pile of rubble come morning.
They traveled in silence for a while and then Cara looked up at Vince. "Where did you go?" she asked.
"Why did you leave like that, without even telling me good-bye."
Mindful of the others in the car, he said, "I had to leave town suddenly."
"So suddenly you couldn't take five minutes to call me?"
"I couldn't get to a phone." Another lie, he thought ruefully. When would it end?
"So, when did you get back in town?"
"Late last night."
"Oh. Where are you staying?"
"I'm back at the garage," he said, grinning. "The owner made me sign a one-year lease this time."
Before she could ask any more questions, the car careened around a corner and rattled over a rut in the road. A short time later, Di Giorgio pulled up in front of DeLongpre's house.
Holding the baby in one arm, Cara ran to open the front door. Di Giorgio went back to close and lock the gate while Vince carried DeLongpre into the house. Brenna hovered at his side.
"Upstairs," Brenna directed, running ahead.
With a nod, Vince carried the unconscious vampire up the stairs and into the bedroom where Brenna waited. She had turned down the covers on the bed and Vince settled the vampire on the mattress.
Cara stood in the doorway, her face pale. "Will he be all right?"
"He'll be fine," Brenna said, stroking his hair. "He just needs rest."
And blood, Vince thought. He looked across the bed at Brenna and knew she was thinking the same thing.
"Cara," Brenna said quietly, "send Frank up here, then wait for me downstairs."
"Why? What can he do?"
Brenna blew out a sigh. "Your father needs blood right away."
"Frank knows what you are?"
"Of course."
Cara glanced at her father, then took a deep breath. "If he needs blood, he can have mine."
"No, Cara."
"Why not?"
"Because he wouldn't want you to see this part of our existence."
"I don't care. He's my father and he needs help. I've given blood before..." She laughed humorlessly.
"Recently, in fact."
"But not like this."
Cara laid the baby on the love seat by the fireplace then looked at her mother. "We're wasting time. Tell me what to do."
Brenna's shoulders slumped in defeat. Every moment she wasted arguing was one more moment of suffering for Roshan.
"Come, child," she said, "sit here, beside him."
Now that she'd gotten her way, Cara began to have doubts, but she thrust them aside. All her life, her father had cared for her, loved her, and protected her as best he could. She wasn't going to turn her back on him now, when he needed her.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Brenna asked. "It's going to hurt."
"I'm sure," Cara said, though her voice quivered noticeably.
Brenna looked over at Vince. "I need your help."
"You've got it."
"Stand here and hold Cara's other hand."
Vince did as she asked, effectively blocking Cara's view of what was about to happen. Taking a deep
breath, Brenna used her thumbnail to make an incision in Cara's wrist.
Blood flowed in the wake of the cut.
Lifting Cara's arm, Brenna held it to Roshan's lips. "Drink, love," she commanded softly.
A shudder ran through the vampire's body as he grasped his daughter's arm with both hands, his mouth closing over the wound.
Vince understood why Brenna didn't offer her husband her own blood. It was a rare thing for one vampire to drink the blood of another, but in this instance, he heartily wished that Brenna had refused Cara's offer.
The scent of her blood teased his nostrils, tempting him to push Roshan aside and lift her arm to his own lips.
Cara stared into Vince's eyes, unable to believe what was happening, wondering if now she, too, would become a vampire. As repulsive as the idea was, it seemed a small price to pay to save her father's life.
After what seemed like a very long time but was only a few moments, Brenna drew Cara's arm away.
She ran her tongue over the wound and it immediately stopped bleeding.
Vince lifted Cara to her feet and put his arms around her. "Are you all right?"
Cara nodded, her gaze on her father. He looked a little better, she thought, not quite so pale.
And then, to her surprise, her mother made a gash in her own wrist and held it to her father's lips. Only for a moment, but the transformation was amazing.
The lines of pain that had been etched deep into his face disappeared as if by magic. The color returned to his cheeks. Even the raw places where the silver had touched his skin didn't look as red and angry as before.
Opening his eyes, Roshan saw Brenna hovering over him. "Cara?"
"She's here," Brenna said, taking his hand in hers.
"Hi, Dad," Cara said, moving closer to the bed. "How do you feel?"
Roshan stared at his daughter, an expression of horror crossing his face. "Why?" He looked at Brenna.
"Why did you let her do it?"
"You needed blood," Brenna said, squeezing his hand.
"You should have asked Di Giorgio."
"I wanted to," Brenna said, "but Cara insisted."
Roshan looked at his daughter. He could feel her blood flowing through his veins; he had but to wish it to read her thoughts. "I never wanted you to see, to know..."
"It's all right," Cara said, forcing a smile.
"No." He closed his eyes, as if he could shut it from his mind. "No, it's not."
Still holding Roshan's hand, Brenna looked at her daughter. "What happened back there?"
"Anton's mother used our blood to raise a man from the dead," Cara said. She folded her arms across her chest, as if she had a sudden chill. "Only something went wrong." She shivered, remembering the crazed look in the witch's eyes. "Anton ran out of the lab and the thing went after him." She shivered again. "I thought it was coming after me."
"What of the witch?" Roshan asked.
"Serafina's dead," Brenna said without regret.
"If her incantation didn't raise Anton's father, what did it raise?" Cara asked.
"A zombie, I would imagine," Brenna replied. "If it finds Anton..."
The unfinished sentence hung in the air. There was no telling what would happen to Anton if the creature Serafina had raised found him, Cara thought. The creature hadn't seemed to believe Serafina's claim that Anton was his son, or had that enraged "No!" been a horrified response to finding himself resurrected in such a ghastly form? Did he even know who he was, or was he simply a shell of a man without a mind, without a soul?
Cara couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt. If she had been a virgin, would Anthony Loken have risen whole and healthy from the grave?
"Let's go downstairs," Brenna said. "Roshan needs to rest."
"And I need to take the baby to the police," Cara said, lifting the infant into her arms.
"Speaking of the police," Vince said, "shouldn't we be reporting the fact that Anton kidnapped Cara?"
"No," Roshan said, his voice gruff but firm. "No police."
"Why the hell not?" Vince asked, but even as he spoke the words, he knew the answer. The last thing DeLongpre wanted was a bunch of cops coming around asking questions.
"We'll take care of this ourselves," Roshan said.
"What about the baby?" Cara asked. She stroked the infant's downy cheek with her finger. "Poor little thing. We've got to get him back to his parents as soon as we can."
Roshan was silent a moment, then sighed heavily. "You're right. Go."
"I'll go with her," Vince said.
"Take Frank, too," Brenna said, following the two of them down the stairs.
"Maybe he should stay here, with you," Cara suggested.
Brenna shook her head. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of things here. Frank..."
She frowned. "Where is he?"
"I don't know," Cara said, cuddling the baby. "Maybe he went to his place."
"It's not like him to just take off without telling anyone," Brenna said, frowning.
"We'll go by his house," Cara said. "Be sure to lock the door behind us."
Brenna looked at her daughter and smiled. "Anyone who comes here tonight will get more trouble than he's looking for."