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"It's already too late. You didn't die in the crash and it took too long for me to heal before I reached you."
Again he sounded more weary than villain-ish. He even sighed as though burdened beyond what he could bear.
"Now all that's left is to ensure your death."
"What did I ever do to you?" I snapped, hoping someone from the mansion had seen the smoke and help was on the way.
"It's what you will do if you live." His gaze shifted to my right hand. "My death is already certain. Hers is not."
Her. I took a last stab at making him run or charge me.
"You mean the pretty brunette vampire?" I said, betting it all that it was the same woman I'd glimpsed in my vision. "Hate to break it to you, but she was found out days ago. Vlad's already got people hunting her down. We just didn't know who the traitor was."
"Lies," Shrapnel hissed.
He took a step forward and I held my breath. Come on, just a little closer!
"How's this for lies? She's five foot four, curvier than me, thick walnut-colored hair, lilting accent . . . want me to go on?"
I couldn't, but as the scent of gasoline increased, so did my desperation. I debated charging him despite the steep hill and his incredible speed. Then he took another step closer.
"How did you break her spell to reach her?"
"Oh, it was easy," I said, thinking it was a damn good thing Shrapnel wasn't a mind reader because I had no idea what he was talking about. "Where do you think I got all this straight black hair from? I'm one quarter Cherokee and my grandmother was a powerful medicine woman. She taught my mother and me all kinds of mystical tricks, so your little bitch's spell was no match for the magic I know."
Except for the one quarter Cherokee part, the rest was all lies. I held my breath, hoping that Shrapnel didn't realize that.
"Don't speak of her that way!" he roared.
He took another step forward and that was my chance. I exploded toward him, snapping all the electricity I could muster into a whip that shone as bright as lightning. He lunged to avoid it, but even his speed wasn't enough. That dazzling cord caught him in the hip and continued all the way through.
His legs dropped like felled tree limbs, pitching the rest of him forward with his momentum. He ended up landing on me, his weight knocking the breath from me. Before I could push him off, he began pummeling me while his fangs tore at anything close enough to bite.
I screamed at the brutal double assault. Being almost cut in half hadn't diminished Shrapnel's ferocity. Instead, he seemed almost demonic in his determination to kill me. A stunning blow caved in my rib cage, cutting off my scream. The savageness of the pain stole all thought, triggering blind survival instinct. I didn't consciously grab him and send a current into him. All I knew was that his weight was suddenly gone and I was transported into a decrepit alley.
The streetlights were broken, but I didn't need them to see as I strode down the narrow path between the buildings.
"You killed the bomb maker, too? When will you stop taking such reckless, stupid risks!"
My bellow drew several glances. I didn't care. Most vampires avoided places where the homeless dwelled. They smelled too much to make eating them palatable.
"It wasn't too risky" was my lover's unruffled reply. "I took care of it, dearie. He's dead, ending any chance this will be traced back to us."
Fury made me grip the phone before I forcibly relaxed my hand so it wouldn't shatter and end our call.
"If you hadn't used him to kill Leila, he wouldn't have needed taking care of. I wouldn't have told you where she was if I knew what you intended. If Vlad doesn't believe the explosion was an accident, he won't rest until he finds her killers."
"You're overreacting," she said, and the boredom in her tone hit me like a splash of acid. "Even if there are suspicions, they won't lead anywhere. Whatever she might have been worth to him alive, she's less dangerous to us dead."
My laugh was harsh. "One day, you'll tell me the real reason you don't want Vlad to know about us. Until then, the only motive I see for you killing Leila is jealousy."
I'd intended the accusation to sting, but I hadn't anticipated the venom in her response.
"My reasons don't matter. What does matter is you are the one who gave me her location. He'll kill you for that, dearie, and only after years of torturing you. Unless that sounds appealing, you have no choice but to keep this a secret."
I hung up, my sense of despair equal to the knowledge that she was right. Vlad would respond only one way to my part in Leila's death, and he wouldn't stop there. He'd do the same to her, and despite my anger, I couldn't let that happen. I loved her, and if lying would keep her safe, then I would lie.
The alley dissolved and I expected to fall back into my own reality, but without even trying to, I linked to Shrapnel's accomplice next. For a split second, I saw her, wearing a skirt suit and reclined on a couch with a martini in her hand. Before I could focus on her face, her features blurred, leaving nothing but a blob surrounded by lustrous walnut-colored hair.
Then a wave of dizziness assailed me, as if someone just whacked me over the head with a two-by-four. I dropped the link, returning to the present where I was curled on my side, coughing between tortured gasps for air. Blood dribbled from my mouth and the pressure in my chest increased until it was excruciating.
This wasn't from the beating Shrapnel had given me. No, I recognized this pain. My abilities had hit the lethal zone, and the only vampire near enough to heal me wanted me dead.
Frustration made me want to howl at the unfairness of it all. I was only supposed to use my abilities on Sandra to see if she was guilty or innocent. I hadn't meant to pull Shrapnel's worst sin, let alone link to the bitch who'd started this whole mess with the carnival bomb. Now those things would kill me.
A groan made me open my eyes. Through a haze of red, I caught a glimpse of Shrapnel. The current I'd blasted into him had thrown him over a dozen feet away. Both his arms were now missing in addition to his legs, and his skin looked like meat someone had put through a grinder. Despite all the damage from the current, he was still alive. Then his head lolled toward me and our eyes met.
A sliver of surprise threaded through my fading consciousness. I hadn't expected any empathy from him, but I was unprepared for the mixture of relief and pride in his expression. Relief made sense; he wanted me dead, and from the crushing pain in my chest, he'd soon get his wish. But why pride? He had nothing to do with my abilities overloading enough to put the final nails in my coffin . . .
