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“Too many memories here,” Arthur said, glancing past her to the house. “If you ever need anything, call me.” Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. “I mean it, Savanah. Anything at all, day or night. Whatever I have is yours.”
“Thank you. And thank you for coming. It meant a lot to me to have you here.”
Arthur Gentry blew out a heavy sigh, then patted her arm. “I just wish I hadn’t let my pride keep me away from you and your father for so long. Keep in touch with your old uncle now, hear?”
“I will.” Leaning toward him, she kissed him on the cheek, murmured “Good-bye, Uncle,” and got out of the car.
Standing on the sidewalk, she watched him drive away, thinking that a new car every year and millions of dollars in the bank didn’t guarantee happiness.
Feeling more alone than she ever had in her life, she walked up the stairs to the porch, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside.
The silence of the house engulfed her; the emptiness screamed in her ears. Never again would she hear her father’s voice welcoming her home or asking how her day had gone. Never again would she share a quiet evening with him, or engage in a lively discussion about the day’s events. Should she marry, he wouldn’t be there to walk her down the aisle. He would never see his grandchildren, never hold a granddaughter on his lap, or take a grandson fishing. Her father was gone, stolen from her by some blood-thirsty creature of the night.
After closing and locking the door behind her, she retrieved her mother’s Vampire hunting kit from under the bed and went through it piece by gruesome piece, familiarizing herself with each item. The stakes were long, smooth, and sturdy, the points very sharp. The mallet was heavier than it looked. Was it only her imagination, or did the vials of holy water feel warm to the touch? A wave of revulsion swept through her as she picked up a small hand-saw. She told herself she could do whatever was necessary to avenge her father, but inwardly she was assailed by doubts. Too bad she wasn’t hunting Werewolves, she thought with a morbid grin. You could kill them from a distance with a silver bullet. So much easier and less messy than driving a wooden stake into a creature’s heart, or cutting off its head.
It wasn’t until later that evening, as she relaxed in the bathtub, that she remembered being unable to find the nightclub where Rane had taken her. After getting out of the tub, she slipped on her robe, went downstairs, and pulled the phone book from the desk drawer.
“Hell’s Hollow,” she murmured, thumbing through the pages. “Where are you?”
It was nowhere to be found. She went through theH ’s twice, but to no avail. There was no listing for Hell’s Hollow. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed Information. They had no listing.
Frowning, Savanah tapped her fingers on the desktop. The nightclub existed. She had been there. Why was there no listing? And why hadn’t she been able to find the place this afternoon?
The answer popped into her mind. Because Rane didn’t want her to. And why wouldn’t he want her to find it again? Because it was a Vampire hangout, of course. How could she have been so blind? No doubt everyone in the club had been a Vampire or dating one.
The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than the doorbell rang. She knew it was Rane before she answered the door.
“Speak of the devil, and he appears,” she murmured as she went to let him in.
Rane’s gaze moved over Savanah, noting the sadness in her eyes. He had never lost anyone he loved. Save for the pain of separating himself from his family, he had never experienced grief.
Savanah frowned when he continued to stand on the porch. “Are you coming in?”
“Are you inviting me?”
“What?” She frowned at him a moment; then, remembering that she had rescinded her invitation, she said, “I forgot. Come on in.”
He followed her into the living room, sat beside her on the sofa. Her sorrow was a palpable presence in the room. Wordlessly, he opened his arms.
Savanah took refuge in his embrace, finding solace in the strength of his arms around her, in the presence of another soul. She frowned, wondering if Vampires even had a soul, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be alone with her grief.
They sat in silence for a time. Finally, unable to hold back her tears, Savanah buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and wept.
Rane blew out a sigh. At a loss for words, he stroked her back, brushed a kiss across the top of her head. Her hair was soft and smelled of strawberries.
“I’m sorry,” Savanah murmured as she sat up. “I didn’t mean to cry all over you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, sniffling. “Have you ever lost anyone?”
“No.”
“Have you ever loved anyone?”
“Just my family.”
Savanah reached for a tissue from the box on the end table. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“You mean besides now?”
She looked up at him, startled by his words. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m in love with you.” It was wrong, and he knew it. He had no right to love her, or any woman. He had done despicable things, horrible things, for which he would find no forgiveness in this life or the next. But the fact remained that he had fallen in love with her. He shrugged. “I thought you should know.”
“Rane…”
“You must have known, or at least suspected.”
“I guess so, but…”
“The idea displeases you.”
“No, but…”
“But I’m a Vampire and you’re a hunter,” he finished for her. “And you’re thinking it’s going to make it difficult to take my head.”
“Rane, what a terrible thing to say!”
“Maybe, but it’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted.
“I give you leave to try.”
He had told her that once before, she thought, and not so long ago.
“I need to find the Vampire who killed my father,” she said, determination replacing her tears. “She’s not going to get away with it.”
“How are you going to find her?”
“I don’t know. I don’t suppose you’d help me.”
“I might.”
“Would you? Really?” She looked at him, her eyes filled with hope. “I mean…really? You’d help me hunt one of your own?”
