As she walked down the long hospital corridor, she could hear other patients and nurses talking. She could hear the faint murmur of their voices. The people passed by her in a blur. She stared down at the shining white floor, moving through the hospital completely by memory.
Mary's words echoed in her mind. Savannah knew the devil that her friend spoke of was Geoffrey. He was coming after her. And she was afraid that she wouldn't be strong enough to defeat him.
Her steps were slow, wooden. Her head pounded. She ignored the pain, ignored the chorus of voices and machines. She kept walking. Slowly, steadily.
As she rode the elevator down to the first floor, she stared at her reflection in the glass, wondering at the fragile looking woman before her. Her eyes were sunken, glassy. Her skin chalk white. She lifted a hand, driven by some strange impulse to touch her image, to comfort the sad woman who stood before her.
The elevator chimed and the door opened. She forgot the sad woman who'd stood before her, and she walked toward the small chapel. She'd always gone to the chapel when she needed strength. When she needed hope.
She pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside. The chapel was empty. Elaborate gold crosses were hung on all the walls, and several cloth covered pews were arranged in the middle of the room.
She walked toward the altar, staring with wide eyes at the image of Jesus at his crucifixion. She fell to her knees, closing her eyes. “Please, God,” she begged. “Help Mary. Give her strength.»
A cold wind blew through the chapel. The crosses trembled.
Savannah's eyes lifted. A soft chuckle sounded from behind her, and she stopped breathing.
«Foolish woman,” he said, his voice a wicked drawl. “Even your God can't help you.»
She recognized his voice. The voice that haunted her dreams, her nightmares.
She stood on legs that trembled and took a deep breath. She wouldn't let him see her fear. She wouldn't. She turned around slowly, gathering her strength, her courage.
The chapel's door was open, and he stood on the threshold of this holy place, hidden in shadows. She couldn't see his face. Just the outline of his body. Tall, strong. Deadly.
«Stay away from me,” she ordered, lifting her chin.
He laughed again. “Foolish human. What makes you think that you're the one I want?»
What was he talking about? Of course she was the one he wanted. Who else would he want? Oh, God, Mary!
«I know where she is,” he whispered. “Dear Mary. Such a … sweet woman.»
No, no—she couldn't let him get to Mary. Her gaze flew around the chapel. She needed a weapon, something—
«She tasted so sweet. So pure. I think I might just have to have another taste…»
She grabbed one of the heavy wooden crosses from the wall. “Stay away from her!” Her fingers clenched around the cross and she took a step forward.
«She's just above us, isn't she? Perhaps I'll go upstairs and see her again. Just for old time's sake.»
«I said stay away from her!” Savannah snarled, straining to see him through the shadows.
«Make me,” he invited, his voice a purr.
Savanna lunged, swinging the cross in front of her.
In a flash, he vanished, leaving the echo of his foul laughter to fill the chapel.
CHAPTER 11
When I look into his eyes, I see only evil.
-Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
December 13, 1068
She'd warned the hospital personnel. She'd told them that Mary's life was in danger, that she needed constant supervision. They'd called in two extra guards, and they promised Savannah that Mary would be safe.
She hadn't told them that the man who was after Mary wasn't exactly human. They wouldn't have believed her if she'd said a vampire wanted to kill her friend.
So, she'd lied. She'd told them that Mary's ex-boyfriend was at the hospital and that he'd confessed to attacking her. After that, it had been easy to arrange for Mary's protection.
Once she was certain that Mary was safe, Savannah had searched the upper levels of the hospital. She didn't think that Geoffrey had left, that he'd just given up and decided to leave. No, she knew he was still there, waiting on her. Waiting for her.
She couldn't find him. She looked, in every room and in every closet. She hated the idea that he was there, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. To possibly kill Mary.
She had to draw him out. Draw him away from the hospital. Mary needed time to recover. She wouldn't be able to survive another attack from him. She had to lead him away. She had to protect Mary.
She pushed open the door to the stairwell. Only two flights stood between her and the parking garage. A red overhead light illuminated the small area. She hurried down the steps, wanting to get away as fast she could. She absently rubbed her temple. Her head had been pounding steadily from the moment she'd slipped into the hospital. She wished she hadn't left her pills at William's.
She walked down three steps, and the world suddenly seemed to swirl before her. She grabbed the iron railing, holding on tightly. She saw a brief flash, and then darkness surrounded her.
She closed her eyes and heard the sound of her pounding heart. Had he found her? Was he doing this to her?
She counted to ten and opened her eyes. The darkness was gone. She once again saw the red glow of the light and the concrete stairs.
She began walking down the stairs, not taking her arm off the railing. She didn't know what had just happened, but she didn't want to take any chances. Luckily, she only had to go down one more flight to get to the garage.
She'd take her jeep and drive as far and as fast as she could. She knew he would follow her. And Mary would be safe.
The concrete steps ended in front of a red door. She shoved the door open, hurrying into the garage.
She could see her jeep sitting on the far side, right under the security camera. The long, florescent lights flickered faintly overhead, casting shadows on the pavement.
No one else was in the vast garage. No visitors, not even a security guard.
She had to hurry. She had to get away. Before he—
There was a man standing beside her jeep.
She couldn't see his face. Just his body. And his hair. Long hair, pulled back at the nape of his neck. He stepped forward, into the light, and she gasped, stunned. He had William's hair. William's face. William's eyes. His cheeks. His sensuous mouth.
He could have been William but for one small detail. The man before her did not have William's slashing scar covering his cheek.
He's my half-brother. The memory of William's words slipped through her mind. Brother. The two men could have been twins.
He smiled at her. “Hello, Savannah. I knew you'd come.” He rubbed his face lightly. “Didn't dear William tell you about the resemblance?” He advanced toward her like the hunter that he was.