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Easing down on the mattress, he closed his eyes and in a rare moment of weakness, let himself dream of home.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Clive punched in Roc’s cell number for the second time, cursing softly when all he received was a recorded message. Roc had called earlier that afternoon, reporting that he had nothing to report. Clive had instructed him to stay near the house and to call in every hour, sooner if there was any change in the situation. That had been nine hours ago. Since then, nothing.
After throwing the cell phone across the room, he began to pace the floor. Four possibilities occurred to him: Roc had lost contact with the woman and was afraid to report it; he had managed to get into the house, but hadn’t been able to find the books; he had found the books and had decided to either keep them or demand some kind of a reward; or he was dead.
For Roc’s sake, Clive hoped it was the latter. Those who betrayed him lived to regret it, but not for very long.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Savanah stared out the window, her elbows resting on the sill as she watched the windblown rain slash through the trees. Lightning speared the lowering gray clouds; thunder rumbled in the distance.
She was going stir-crazy. It had taken her hours to fall asleep last night, and when sleep finally came, her dreams had been populated with Vampires and Werewolves that chased her through a long dark tunnel. She ran until she couldn’t run anymore and then, suddenly, in the way of dreams, the scene changed and she was alone in a theater, watching a handsome magician clad in a long black cape. She knew a moment of relief and then, with a wave of his hand, the magician disappeared and a huge black wolf stood in his place. With a low growl, the wolf sprang from the stage, landing only inches from her face, so close she could feel its hot breath on her cheeks, see its fangs. Just when she thought it was going to rip her throat out, the wolf changed again, and now it was Rane bending over her, his eyes blood red, his fangs dripping blood.
She had stared up at him. “You told me you didn’t kill anyone,” she had said, her voice shaking.
“I haven’t,” he had replied with a feral grin. “Yet.”
Once again, the sound of her own cries had awakened her.
How much longer did he expect her to stay imprisoned in this house? If she didn’t get out soon, she would go insane.
She tapped her fingertips on the sill as she considered her options. Her life was in danger, there was no doubt of that. She could either stay here, hiding away like some coward, or she could go home and face her fears. Her mother and father hadn’t run away from danger. They had both hunted Vampires.
Yes, a little voice murmured in the back of her mind, and they had both been killed by Vampires.
Rane thought she should stay here, but what was the point? The Werewolf’s appearance proved that her whereabouts were no longer a secret. What made Rane think that staying here was any safer than going home? Another Werewolf could show up here tomorrow. Mara could return at any time. Just because Rane said it was all right for them to be here didn’t make it so. Mara might have other ideas about an uninvited mortal staying in her lair. Savanah knew good and well that she was no match for a Vampire like Mara.
She wanted to go home, and that was what she was going to do. She would fortify her house as best she could and let the chips fall where they may. She had made her first kill, and while it had sickened her, she had proved she could do it. Her parents hadn’t shunned the fight, and neither would she.
Her decision brought with it a sense of peace. When she saw Rane, she would tell him what she had decided, the consequences be damned.
Humming softly, she went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. Carrying it with her, she went down to the rec room in search of something to read. There was no telling when Rane would wake. Until then, she needed something to occupy her time.
The storm didn’t sound so loud in the playroom. Standing in front of the bookshelf, she scanned the titles. Mara had a vast library, everything from the works of Shakespeare, Dickens, and Milton to Erma Bombeck and Gary Larsen. It would have taken several lifetimes to collect so many books. Had Mara read them all, Savanah wondered, or did she just like to collect them?
Plucking a copy of Wuthering Heights from the shelf, Savanah curled up in one of the chairs and opened the book, only to stare into the distance, thinking about last night. She hadn’t said anything to Rane, but he had known what she was thinking. Big surprise. The man could read her mind. He had told her he hadn’t killed anyone, but the way he said it…Maybe he hadn’t taken a life, but she would have bet everything she owned that he had wanted to.
She nibbled on the sandwich while she tried to imagine what it was like to be constantly at the mercy of such an insidious craving. She was addicted to chocolate; there was no doubt about that. What woman wasn’t? But she could go without it if she had to. And if she went without it long enough, the craving went away. She had gone a week without any chocolate once, just to see if she could do it, and she had survived with no ill effects. But Rane’s insatiable lust for blood never went away. No matter how often he fed, the hunger was still there the next day and the next, and if he didn’t feed, the hunger grew a little worse each day until the pain became excruciating.
Shaking off her gruesome thoughts, she looked down at the book in her lap. Where were her mother’s books? What would she do if Rane refused to give them to her?
She had made her first kill. The thought was exciting and repulsive at the same time. But, having done it, she felt the need to record it. If she only knew the Werewolf’s name, she could enter it in the book. And her name beside it as the hunter who had destroyed it.
Rane woke late in the afternoon. Staring into the darkness, he assessed his injuries. The bites and scratches inflicted by the Werewolf had healed; the flesh burned by the sun pained him only a little less than it had the day before. It would be days, perhaps weeks, before the worst of his injuries were fully healed. He had forgotten how painful the touch of the sun’s light could be, but he would willingly endure that and more to protect Savanah.
A harsh laugh escaped his lips. He hadn’t done such a great job of protecting her. Now that whoever was after the books knew where she was, she wouldn’t be safe here any longer. She was a smart girl. No doubt that fact had already occurred to her.
He took a deep breath, and Mara’s scent filled his nostrils. He had felt the brush of her mind against his briefly last night. No other Vampire he knew of possessed the power to reach across continents and oceans. Truly, Mara was a law unto herself, a creature with Supernatural abilities that bordered on the divine. The inhabitants of the earth could count themselves fortunate that she had no desire to dominate them.
