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Roshan stared at Dugan's body. "Foolish boy," he muttered. "Why didn't you get the hell out of town while you had the chance?"
Turning away from the table, Roshan walked over to the desk, quickly perusing the warlock's notes, most of which he found indecipherable.
Roshan glanced at what was left of Jimmy Dugan. Had the boy's blood provided Loken with any of the answers he was searching for? Would it enable him to come up with a formula for eternal life?
Dissolving into mist, Roshan flowed out of the laboratory. Dugan had trusted the wrong man and it had cost him his life.
Materializing outside the lab, Roshan stared up at the sky, at the millions of twinkling stars that faded away into infinity. Until now, even though he had known it was impossible, he hadn't realized how badly he had been hoping that Jimmy Dugan had been right, and that Loken had found a cure for the hunger that plagued him.
Without conscious thought, he followed the warlock's scent across the city to a house located on a hill. A high wrought iron fence surrounded the yard. Lights shone in the windows. A plume of blue-gray smoke rose from a red brick chimney.
Roshan stared up at the house for several minutes, men, lost in thought, he turned and headed for home.
He had told Brenna to go to bed, but he found her curled up on the sofa in the living room, waiting for him. Morgana slept in the crook of her arm.
"You're up late," he said, dropping into the chair beside the sofa.
"I could not sleep. I kept thinking about Jimmy Dugan. Do you think he will take your advice and leave town?"
"He's dead."
Her eyes widened. "Dead? How do you know?"
"I saw his body."
"But… what happened? How did he die?"
"I'm not sure, but Loken's draining the blood from the boy's body."
Her face paled. For a moment, he thought she was going to be sick. "You saw him?"
He nodded curtly.
"Poor Mr. Dugan. If only he had listened to you."
Roshan grunted softly, surprised by his regret at the boy's death. Usually, the lives of others, especially mortals, meant little to him. He fed on them when necessary. Until Brenna entered his life, he had cared little for humanity's woes collectively or individually. But Jimmy Dugan hadn't been mortal. He had been a vampire, and though Roshan had scoffed at Jimmy's notion that they were brothers, he felt an uncharacteristic need to avenge the boy's death.
"Well," Brenna said, gathering Morgana in her arms, "I think I will go to bed. Good night."
"Good night."
He watched her leave the room, his gaze lingering on the sway of her hips. His little witch had changed his life in ways he had not imagined, made him yearn for things he had thought forever behind him. Now, looking at her, he found himself wanting to spend his life with her, to plant his seed within her, to watch her womb swell with new life.
Simple dreams for a mortal man.
Impossible dreams for a vampire.
CHAPTER 17
She was walking down the street outside the Wicca Way Coffee Shop and Bookstore when Anthony Loken fell into step beside her. Smiling, he took her hand in his and led her down the street. They walked until the city was far behind them. She frowned as they approached a large brick building. As they drew closer, she began to shiver as all her instincts warned her not to enter the building. The door was made of steel. The windows were boarded up on the inside and barred on the outside.
She could smell death inside.
With a cry, she tried to wrest her hand from Loken's, but his fingers tightened on hers as he dragged her inside the building and shut the door. Desperate to escape him, she tried to gather her will around her in order to repel his hold on her, but her magick was useless against him.
An evil laugh rose in his throat as he dragged her down a flight of stairs to the basement. He opened a door and flipped a switch, flooding the room with light, light that did little to dispel the blackness that gathered around her, a darkness so thick she could feel it crawling over her skin.
A long metal table stood in the middle of a magick circle. Jimmy Dugan's corpse lay on the table, obscene and withered in death. A stake had been driven into his heart. His body had been drained of blood.
She turned to look at Loken, her insides going cold with terror when she saw him, really saw him, for the first time. He was neither man nor warlock but some creature out of a nightmare. His eyes were blood red, his ears long and pointed, more like horns than human ears. His teeth were white and sharp.
She looked back at the table, her eyes widening when she found herself staring into Jimmy Dugan's eyes. And then, to her horror, the young vampire's appearance began to change. His hair turned from brown to black, his eyes from dark brown to the deep blue of midnight. His shoulders grew broader, his legs longer, and suddenly it wasn't Jimmy Dugan's body chained to the cold metal table but Roshan's.
A scream rose in her throat, echoing off the walls, the floor, the ceiling. She screamed until her throat ached. Screamed with, terror and revulsion. And mingled with her screams was the sound of Anthony Loken's satanic laughter…
She woke with a start, her face and body bathed in sweat.
Scrambling out of bed, she threw back the curtains and opened the window, then stood there drawing in deep breaths of fresh air.
A dream, it had been nothing but a bad dream, and yet she couldn't shake off a feeling of impending doom.
Sometimes dreams were just dreams, and sometimes they were glimpses into the future.
Hurrying downstairs, she went into the kitchen. She pulled a heavy silver bowl from the cupboard and filled it with water, then placed it on the table, her fingertips tapping impatiently while she waited for the water to form a smooth surface.
Passing her hands over the bowl, she stared into the water, murmuring, "Secrets hidden, dark and deep, show me where my love doth sleep."
Slivers of color spiraled up from the bottom of the bowl, swirling across the face of the water until they formed a picture of Roshan. He was lying on his back on a large bed with a carved wooden headboard. A dark blue sheet covered him from the waist down. His skin looked very pale against the bedding. Eyes narrowed, she stared at him. He didn't move, didn't twitch, didn't breathe. She shivered in spite of herself. He did, indeed, sleep like one who was dead. But at least he was safe!
Now, if she only knew the whereabouts of his lair.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, the water shimmered, the colors running together and then painting a new image on the face of the water, and now she was looking at the hallway that ran from the front entryway to the living room. The focus of the picture narrowed until it showed a small door located near the entrance to the living room.
