Never, in all her life, had she seen anything as savage as the battle being waged before her eyes. Saintcrow was older, stronger, but Braga fought like a wild animal, biting, clawing, scratching, somehow dancing out of reach whenever it looked like Saintcrow was going to rip out her heart.
And always, Braga screamed her hatred at him.
Just when Holly thought the fight would go on forever, Saintcrow slammed Braga against the wall beside Holly, grabbed the stake from her hand, and drove it into the other vampire’s heart.
The sudden silence was deafening.
The smell of blood filled the air.
As though freed from a spell, Holly fled the house as if pursued by the devil and his fallen angels.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Holly glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find Saintcrow in hot pursuit. But he wasn’t there. Unless he had dissolved into mist and was, even now, hovering above her like some disembodied spirit.
She ran until she was out of breath, then stopped in front of a liquor store, her heart racing, her mind spinning. What to do, what to do?
What to do? What was she thinking? She had a phone and cash in her pocket. She was free!
With fingers that trembled, she located the number of a cab company.
Fifteen minutes later, she checked into a small hotel on the other side of town. In her room, she locked the door, then slumped onto the sofa and closed her eyes, only to snap them open when visions of Saintcrow holding Mahlon’s heart, Saintcrow staking Braga, flashed through her mind.
She had a terrible feeling those images would haunt her for days—maybe months—to come.
She plucked Saintcrow’s cell phone from her pocket, then paused as another image flashed through her mind. Micah. True, she was anxious to put all this behind her, anxious to go home, but did she really want to leave Micah behind, as well?
She bit down on her lower lip, then shook her head. She’d had enough adventure to last a lifetime. She needed space, time to think. She needed to go home.
Using Saintcrow’s phone, she called the airport and arranged for a flight to take her home first thing in the morning. The sooner she was in her own house, sleeping in her own bed, the better.
* * *
Micah woke with the setting of the sun. His first thought was for Holly. Was she safe? And what about his family? Had Saintcrow destroyed Braga and Mahlon?
He bolted upright when he realized Holly wasn’t anywhere in the hotel. Muttering, “Where the hell is she?” he stormed into the suite’s main room.
Kadie was curled up on the sofa, reading a book. Saintcrow stood at the window, gazing outside, hands shoved into his back pockets.
“Where’s Holly?” Micah demanded.
“I don’t know. She took off after I staked Braga.”
“Why didn’t you go after her?”
“Hey, I’m not her keeper.”
Micah took a deep breath, almost afraid to ask. “My family?”
“I sent them to a hotel for the time being. You might want to call your folks and let them know it’s safe to go back home.”
Micah stared at Saintcrow’s back. “Do they know about me?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Did she feed on them?”
Saintcrow nodded.
Micah cursed softly. Did his family know the truth about him now? If they did, how could he ever face any of them again? He had lied to all of them for years. How could he make them understand? They would never look at him in the same way. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they never wanted to see him again.
“Kadie and I are going back to Morgan Creek,” Saintcrow said, turning away from the window. “You’re welcome to come along.”
Micah nodded absently. “Thanks.”
“If it makes you feel any better, there’s a good chance your parents don’t know.”
“Whether they do or they don’t, they’re going to have a lot of questions about vampires after what happened here. And probably a few suspicions about me.”
“Sucks to be you,” Saintcrow said with a wry grin.
“Very funny.”
Saintcrow laid a hand on Micah’s shoulder. “They’re your parents. They have to love you.”
“And Holly loves you, too,” Kadie said.
“Just give her a little time,” Saintcrow advised. “She’s been through a lot in the last few weeks.”
“Yeah, time,” Micah muttered bleakly. He had plenty of that.
“We’ll be leaving for home later tonight,” Saintcrow said. “If you need us, you know where to find us.”
Micah nodded. After giving Kadie a hug, he left the hotel.
Outside, he took several deep breaths, then closed his eyes and concentrated on the blood link that bound him to Holly. She was in a room—probably in a hotel—asleep.
He blew out a sigh of relief. Holly was safe. His main concern now was facing his family.
* * *
On the other side of the world, Leandro Braga was ripped from the deathlike sleep of his kind. He bolted upright, gasping. Pain exploded through his chest, as if someone had driven a stake deep into his heart.
It was followed by an acute sense of loss as the blood link that had bound him to his sister, no matter the distance between them, vanished. It left him feeling oddly empty and adrift.
It could only mean one thing.
Leticia was dead.
He had hated her for centuries, refused to speak to her. As his sire, she could have compelled him to keep in touch with her, to return home, to do anything she wanted. But she had never done so, certain that, sooner or later, he would forgive her for turning him against his will.
Now it was too late. Forever too late.
He fell back onto his bed as the dark sleep curled around him yet again.
He couldn’t mend the rift between them, he thought as he sank back into the darkness of oblivion, but he could avenge her death.
* * *
Micah stood in front of his parents’ home. A deep breath carried the scent of Mahlon’s blood, leading him to believe Braga’s bodyguard had died on the premises. Before calling his parents he had gone through the house and then checked the backyard, but he’d found no evidence that blood had been shed there. Saintcrow had been thorough, indeed.
Micah had intended to be waiting for his folks when they arrived, but his courage had deserted him. After calling his folks to let them know the house was safe, he had disconnected the call before his father could ask any questions. And then he had fled the scene, unable to face them. He had spent the last half hour walking the streets, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain what had happened, who Braga was and why she had invaded their home. Steeling himself to face his family’s disbelief, their revulsion, when they learned the truth about him.
Shit. Might as well get it over with.
For the first time since he had left home, he knocked on the front door, then stood there, jaw clenched, his whole body tense, as he waited for someone to answer the door.
Fear and uncertainty emanated from the house in waves.
After what seemed like hours, his father opened the door a crack. He looked like he’d aged ten years, but the rifle in his hands was rock steady.
One look at his father’s face confirmed Micah’s worst fears—his secret was no longer a secret. With a shake of his head, he muttered, “Unless that Winchester is loaded with silver bullets, it won’t do you any good, Dad.”
Color washed into his father’s cheeks. “I didn’t know it was you,” he mumbled.
“Would you rather I left?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah.”
Heaving a sigh, his father stepped away from the door.
Micah hesitated a moment before crossing the threshold. He had been so preoccupied wondering what his parents would think, he hadn’t noticed that his whole family—minus his nieces and nephews—was gathered in the family room. Damn, all those nervous heartbeats sh
ould have warned him.
Hands clenched, he followed his father into the house.
All eyes swung in his direction.
Micah took a deep breath. “I guess those of you who weren’t here know what happened,” he said flatly.
There were nods here and there. His father said, “That awful woman, she fed on us.”
Feeling sick to his stomach, Micah nodded.
“She told us she was a vampire.”
Micah nodded again.
“And that you . . .” His father shook his head. “That you were one, too.”
“It isn’t true, is it?” His mother’s face was pale, her eyes filled with despair. Guilt pierced Micah’s heart. Like his father, his mother looked older, haggard.
“It’s true.” Micah glanced at his brothers and sisters and their spouses. Some looked at him in disbelief, some with horror, some with pity.
“How did it happen?” his oldest brother, Joe, asked.
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Sofia queried with a frown. She didn’t seem too upset, but maybe that was to be expected, since she was a big fan of Twilight and The Vampire Diaries and all things Dracula.
“Is that why we haven’t seen much of you lately?” his sister, Rosa, asked.
Micah held up his hand to stay their questions. As succinctly as possible, he told them about Lilith, how he had met her, and all that had happened afterward.
The room was silent when he finished.
And then his mother stood up. “It doesn’t matter, Mikey.” Hurrying across the room, she embraced him. “You’re my son. This is your home. We are your family, no matter what.”
“Ma . . .” Tears burned his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her.
The next thing he knew, the whole family was gathered around him, his brothers hugging and punching, his sisters showering him with kisses.
Later, they inundated him with the usual questions.
Did he really drink blood? Yes.
What did it taste like? Warm and salty.
Could he fly? In a way.
Disappear? His sisters shrieked when he dissolved into mist.
Did garlic repel him? No.
Did silver burn him? Only weapons, although the metal also negated some of his powers.
Did he cast a reflection in a mirror? Yes.
Was he really immortal? Pretty much.
What had happened to Braga and her companion? They were dead. End of story.
And from his mother: “Where’s Holly?”
Micah took a deep breath. “I think she went home, Ma. She had some things to sort out.”
“She’s a good girl,” Lena said, patting his arm. “Don’t lose her, Mikey.”
* * *
Later, back in Morgan Creek, Micah decided that, all things considered, it was the best night he had spent with his family since he’d become a vampire. He had expected horror, revulsion, rejection. But as far as they were concerned, he was still Mikey, still family. Blood, he thought with a wry grin. It really was thicker than water.
He was thinking about Holly, wondering if he should call her, when his cell phone buzzed.
“Mikey, hi.”
“Hey, Sofie. Is everything all right?”
“Fine. I always suspected you were a vampire.”
“Is that right?”
“Well, not always,” she admitted. “But I did wonder from time to time.”
“Is that what you called to tell me?”
“No. I was wondering, that is, well . . .”
There was silence on the line. Micah grinned, imagining his sister twirling her hair around her finger the way she did when she was nervous, or when she wanted a favor. Like the time she’d wanted him to sneak her into an R-rated movie when she was twelve. Finally, he said, “Spit it out, Sofie. What do you want this time?”
In a rush, she said, “I want you to turn me into a vampire.”
Micah groaned low in his throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No. I’ve done a lot of research into the subject, you know.”
“Research?” he exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t research vampires like you’re studying for a test. Trust me, little sister, you don’t want this. There aren’t any sparkly vampires in the real world.”
“Well, duh, I know that.”
“And I know you. Believe me, Sofie, this isn’t the life for you. You can’t try it on like a pair of shoes and change your mind if it doesn’t fit. It’s forever.”
“But, Mikey, it looks like such fun! Being able to turn into mist. How cool is that? And staying young forever—”
“Even if I was willing to turn you, which I’m not, I wouldn’t do it now. You’re only eighteen. Way too young to make such a life-changing decision.”
“But—”
“Just listen to me. If you feel the same when you’re twenty-five, we’ll talk about it some more.”
“Twenty-f ive!”
“Like I said, we’ll talk about it then.”
“Fine,” she said, the pout evident in her tone. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Micah shook his head as he disconnected the call. Of all the possibilities he had contemplated when he finally told his parents the truth, having his little sister ask to become a vampire had never been one of them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was almost 11 AM when Holly awoke. Turning onto her side, she stared out her bedroom window. The danger was past and she was home, in her own bed.
Where was Micah?
She shook the thought away as soon as it surfaced. She wouldn’t think about him, not now. She needed a little space of her own. A little time to reflect on the events of the last few weeks. Time to sift through her jumbled thoughts and feelings when Micah wasn’t there to influence her.
Throwing the covers aside, she headed for the shower.
A short time later, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she went into the kitchen, only then remembering that—like old Mother Hubbard—her cupboards were bare.
It seemed odd to go out alone during the day.
Holly pushed her shopping cart up and down the aisles, buying whatever caught her fancy. She stopped to shoot the breeze with a neighbor she met in the bread aisle, thinking how strange it felt to exchange idle chitchat with another human being after spending so much time among vampires.
She smiled at the cashier when he said he’d missed her.
“I was on vacation,” Holly said, swiping her credit card.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes. And no. See you next week.”
At home, while putting the groceries away, she let herself think of Micah. He would be resting now. Had he gone to see his parents? What had they said about being held by Braga? Had he told them that he, too, was a vampire? If so, what had their reaction been? Having met his parents, she was certain they wouldn’t stop loving him, vampire or not.
Had he stayed home or gone back to Morgan Creek with Kadie and Saintcrow?
Was he missing her?
Was he angry because she had left without so much as a good-bye?
No matter where you go, I’ll always be able to find you.
Of course, he wouldn’t have to look very far, since he knew where she lived. Would he come here? Did she want him to?
When all the groceries were put away, she made a late breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice. She ate quickly, loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, then went into the living room, took a deep breath, and called Mr. Gladstone.
She crossed her fingers when he answered the phone.
He was polite, he was sympathetic, he was succinct.
She was no longer employed at the offices of Gladstone and Becket.
* * *
Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, Micah strolled the dark streets of downtown Los Angeles. He passed drunks and derelicts, gang members with shaved heads and leather jackets. This time of night, decent people stayed off t
he streets. He nodded to the officer behind the wheel of a black-and-white when the cop slowed to give him the once-over.
A week had passed since Saintcrow had destroyed Braga and Holly had hightailed it for home.
Holly. She was in his every waking thought. Time and again, he had contemplated going to her house. A few times, he’d made it as far as her front porch, but so far he hadn’t found the courage to knock on the door.
Give her time, Saintcrow had said.
Easy for him to say. He didn’t spend his nights wondering if the woman he loved had decided she never wanted to see him again. Or if she was going out with someone else.
But Holly wasn’t his only worry. In the last week, he’d had several calls from Sofia asking questions about vampires. She seemed to think that being Undead was some kind of romantic fairy tale where everyone lived happily ever after. So far, nothing he’d said had changed her mind.
Tired of his own company, Micah went in search of a nightclub, hoping to drown his sorrows in blood and wine.
The first club he came to was a seedy tavern in a bad part of town, populated by a handful of disreputable-looking patrons, from the pasty-faced druggie slumped over a corner table to the hooker trying to persuade a john to take her home.
Micah ordered a glass of red wine, thinking that even if he was starving for nourishment, he would rather go hungry than prey on anybody in the place.
Muttering, “What the hell am I doing here?” he left the tavern in search of greener pastures.
Lost in thought, it took him a moment to realize someone was stalking him. Lifting his head, he opened his senses. Two men trailed behind him. Both had had too much to drink; one was armed with a snub-nosed pistol. They were spoiling for a fight.
Micah grinned into the darkness as he deliberately slowed his pace. Bring it on, he thought. I could use the diversion.
In the end, it was little more than a scuffle that the would-be assailants never had a chance of winning. Micah knocked out the gunman with a well-placed uppercut. The second man eased Micah’s hunger before he was rendered unconscious.
“This is what it’s like to be a vampire, little sister,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Walking the streets alone. Preying on the stupid and the weak. There’s no way I’m letting this happen to you, Sofie. No way in hell!”