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"Should we wait it out or come back later?" I whispered when we'd walked far enough.
"Wait it out."
"I'll phone Lucas, then. He's probably wondering where we are."
It turned out that Lucas and Aaron didn't need our help. The house had required little more than a quick sweep, and revealed nothing. With the news of our find, Lucas promised to hurry over and help us.
As I hung up, Cassandra glided out from a stand of trees. I hadn't noticed she'd left.
"This isn't going to work," she said. "He'll be there for a while. He's an artist."
"Artist?"
"He's set up in front of the cabin with a half-finished painting of it, although why on earth anyone would want a picture of that in their living room is quite beyond me."
"Wonderful. Well, since it doesn't look as if he'll leave on his own, we'll have to give him a supernatural push. Think a hailstorm would persuade him to call it a day?"
"I'll handle this. Wait here."
Cassandra slipped away without waiting for an answer, which was a good thing because I had no intention of staying behind. As good as Cassandra was, everyone can use backup. So I waited until she was out of sight, then looped around the cabin the other way.
The obvious plan of action was to charm him. Like most vampire powers, charming is a functional skill, another adaptation that makes them expert hunters. At its most basic, charming is extreme charisma. It allows a vamp to walk up to the most street-savvy girl in a bar and, within minutes, have her saying, "Hmm, yes, I think I would like to follow you into that dark alley."
By the time I got close enough to see around the cabin, Cassandra would probably be nearly done "persuading" the artist to leave. If anything went wrong, though, I'd be close enough to help out. When I reached the front corner of the cabin, I readied a cover spell, which would keep me hidden so long as I stayed motionless. When the spell was half cast, I leaned out and finished the incantation at the same time, so I could watch without being seen.
Cassandra wasn't there. I could see the artist, a balding man in his late twenties, sitting on a folding camp stool, his attention riveted to the canvas on his portable easel. A bush a few yards behind the man shimmered, as if ruffled by a sudden breeze. Cassandra? Why was she over there? Oh, probably approaching from the road so he wouldn't wonder where she'd come from.
Cassandra's green shirt flashed between two bushes, now less than a yard behind the artist. Okay, stop playing and come out before you give the poor guy a heart attack.
As if hearing me, Cassandra eased into the open. She stood between the bush and the artist, her narrowed eyes gleaming. She tilted her head, gaze fixed on the back of his head. Then she smiled. Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue slid over her teeth.
Oh, shit.
I jerked back behind the cabin just as she pounced. There was an intake of breath, half sigh, half gasp. Then silence. I wrapped my arms around my chest and tried very hard not to think about what was happening just a scant ten feet away, which, of course, made me think about it all the more. She wouldn't kill him. I knew that. She was just...feeding.
I shivered and hugged myself tighter. It wasn't such a bad idea, I told myself. Beyond the obvious debilitating effect of blood-draining, a vampire's initial bite, if done properly, knocked its victim unconscious, so the blood would flow freely. Cassandra's bite would guarantee the artist would be out cold for a few hours. And she did need to eat. But still...
"I told you to stay where you were, Paige."
I turned to see Cassandra at the corner of the cabin. There wasn't so much as a blood smear on her lips, but her color was high and her eyes had lost their usual glitter, lids half closed with the lazy, sated look of someone who's just had a very good meal...or very good sex.
"I--backup--wanted--" I managed.
"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but you should have listened to me. Now come on. We need to check out that basement."
Instead of marching off in the lead, she prodded me forward. When I turned the corner, I saw the artist slumped on the ground. I couldn't suppress a shiver.
"He'll be fine, Paige," Cassandra said, her tone gentler than usual.
"I know."
"You may not like it, but I could argue that some people would feel the same about the chicken you ate for dinner last night."
"I know."
A soft chuckle. "You aren't going to argue the point? Quelle surprise." She patted my back. "Let's get to that secret room. I can't wait to see what they've stashed down there."
Before we went back into t
