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She shook her head. "I mean, maybe I can tell you if Keaton was bitten during the attack." At his answering scowl, she said, "I still have Rachel's bracelet."
"Where?"
"Here, with me. It's in my purse in the other room."
"I need you to go get it, Savannah. Now."
Chapter 13
Savannah woke up from an unusually heavy doze, in bed alone.
How long had she been asleep? Her head felt thick, like she was coming out of a light anesthesia.
Where was Gideon?
She called out to him, but the empty house was silent. Pushing herself up from the mattress, she made a bleary-eyed scan of the dark bedroom. "Gideon?"
No response.
"Gideon, where are you?"
She sat up and tossed the sheet away from her. Turned on the bedside lamp. On the pillow next to her lay a piece of paper. A note scribbled on the back of the unused bus ticket that had been in her purse. The handwriting was crisp, precise, forward-tilting and bold--just like him.
Sorry had to do it like this. You're safe here. Back soon.
Savannah looked around the bedroom. Gideon's clothes were gone. His boots and weapons. Every last trace of him, gone.
She knew where he went.
Through the fog of whatever he'd done to her, she recalled his explosive reaction when she'd used Rachel's bracelet for another glimpse of the vampire attack that night in Professor Keaton's office.
Keaton had been bitten, just as Gideon suspected.
No longer the man he was, but a slave to the command of his vampire Master.
An individual Gideon seemed hellbent to find.
He had nearly climbed the walls with restless energy as the afternoon dragged on outside the house. He couldn't wait to get out of there. He'd paced anxiously, waiting for the chance to head out and confront Keaton, then hunt for the Minion's Master.
Savannah had wanted to go with him, but his refusal had been harsh and unswerving. He'd been adamant that she stay right where she was, leave him to deal with the situation as he saw fit--alone. Or with his brethren of the Order, if necessary.
It wasn't until she had insisted she wouldn't stay behind, digging her heels in with determination equal to his own that he finally gentled.
He'd kissed her tenderly. Brought her into the shelter of his arms, and carefully touched his palm to her forehead. Then...
Then, nothing.
That's all she could remember of the past couple of hours at least.
Sorry had to do it like this, he'd written in his note.
Damn him!
Savannah vaulted off the bed. She threw on her clothes, ran to the front door. She yanked on the latch. It wouldn't budge.
He'd locked her inside?
Pissed now, she went to the windows and tried to open them. Sealed permanently shut, each of them shuttered from outside. The whole house was locked down, she realized, making a frantic perimeter check of the entire place.
