I shook off that thought before it brought me even lower than my rock-bottom state. “I need some clothes.”
Maximus got up and rummaged through the suitcase on the dresser. Then he pulled out a shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.
“These won’t fit, but the fire burned your clothes off and I haven’t had time to get you new ones.”
“This is fine,” I said, accepting the bundle. As soon as I touched it, colorless images exploded across my mind.
I stuffed my clothes in the suitcase and then slammed it shut. Time to take Leila home. No one expected her to leave Vlad, yet she had, and soon she’d be an ocean away from him. I smiled at the thought. She might have refused me once, but that was before she realized Vlad couldn’t give her what she needed. I could, and now I finally had a real chance to show her that.
“Maximus,” I whispered once the hotel room with its putrid yellow walls surrounded me once again. “It’s back!”
Chapter 8
Maximus pulled out a lighter, turning the flame up. I held my hand over it—and immediately snatched it back with a yelp.
“That hurts!”
He flipped the lighter closed. “You’re saying for several weeks it didn’t, because Vlad’s aura rendered you fireproof?”
“That’s right. Fire skipped over me like it does with him. How else do you explain me surviving an explosion that was so intense, it destroyed the trailer I was in?”
And killed another vampire, I didn’t say aloud. If I dwelled on Marty’s death, I’d start sobbing and wouldn’t stop.
“Being in such intense flames must have used up the remains of his aura in you,” Maximus said in a thoughtful tone. Then he frowned. “Vlad told me about your psychic abilities malfunctioning. Why didn’t he tell me this?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to think about Vlad now. “Maybe because he’d never done it before and he wanted to keep his ability to render someone temporarily fireproof a secret?”
“Perhaps,” he mused.
I didn’t care why Vlad hadn’t told anyone. My fireproofing was gone, my abilities were back, and someone who’d tried to kill me had murdered my closest friend, an innocent girl, and many others, too. Finding that person and making him pay was my new goal in life.
“Okay, picking up impressions from an object works. Let’s see if I can still find 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 c
an’t come with me.”
Chapter 9
“I look 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 w
ere 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.