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Marie's brow furrowed. "And what about your flight home?"
"Already taken care of. I changed everything online back at the hotel. I'll be flying out of Prague the day after tomorrow."
"We could wait for you, Dylan." Nancy hefted her backpack up over her shoulder. "Maybe we should forget about Vienna and rebook our flights too, so we can all go home together."
"Yes," Marie agreed. "Maybe we should."
Dylan shook her head. "Absolutely not. I'm not going to ask any of you to spend the last day of your trip babysitting me when it's really not necessary. I'm a big girl. Nothing's going to happen. Go on, I'll be perfectly fine."
"You're sure, honey?" Janet asked.
"Positive. Enjoy yourselves in Vienna. I'll see you back home in the States in a couple of days."
It took a further round of fretting and tongue-clucking before the three women finally made their way to the departure platform. Dylan walked along with them, waiting as they boarded. She watched the train roll out of the station, then turned to leave with the rest of the people who'd come to see loved ones off that night.
As she walked toward the station exits, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being observed. Paranoia, no doubt, brought on by Janet's worrying on her behalf. But still...
Dylan glanced around her in a casual pan of the area, trying not to look anxious or lost - emotional beacons for the types of people who liked to prey on stupid tourists. She held her purse in front of her, one arm locked down over it to keep it close to her body. She knew public transportation areas were prime targets for thieves, just like in the States, and she didn't miss the fact that the group of local teens hanging at a bank of pay phones near the exit were casting measured looks at the crowds as they dispersed. Pickpockets, most likely. She'd heard they often ran in packs around these places.
Just to be safe, she cut a wide berth and avoided them, taking the farthest door from the group.
>She zoomed in on the strange design.
What the hell?
The teardrop-and-crescent-moon symbol was unmistakable, nestled within a series of curving lines and geometric patterns. Dylan stared at it in astonishment, and not a little confusion. This one mark was not unfamiliar to her at all. She'd seen it before, countless times. Not in a photograph, but on her own body.
How on earth could that be?
Dylan brought her hand up to the nape of her neck, bewildered by what she was seeing. Her fingers ran over the smooth skin at the top of her spine, where she knew she bore a tiny crimson birthmark...exactly like the one she was looking at on the screen.
With a steady, cold gaze fixed on the mouth of the cave, Rio jabbed the button on the C-4 detonator. There was a quiet beep as the remote device engaged, barely a half-second pause before the plastic explosives packed into the rock went off. The blast was loud and deep, a tremor that rumbled like thunder in the surrounding night-dark forest. Thick yellow dust and pulverized sandstone shot out of the passageway, tapering off as the walls of the cave's entry closed in, sealing the chamber and its secrets tight within.
Rio watched from the ground below, knowing that he should have been inside - would have been, if not for his own weakness and the intrusion by the female earlier that day.
It had taken a great deal of his strength to climb down from the mountain as dusk fell. Determination had carried him most of the way; self-directed rage had kept him focused and clearheaded as he took up his position below the cave and triggered the detonator.
As the smoke and debris dissipated on the breeze, Rio cocked his head. His acute hearing picked up movement in the woods. Not animal, but human - the brisk, two-legged stride of a hiker straggling alone past dark.
Rio's fangs stretched at the thought of easy prey. His vision sharpened on instinct, his pupils narrowing as he pivoted his head to pan the area.
There - coming down a ridge just south of him. A lean human male with a camper's pack slung onto his back tromped through the thicket, his short blond hair glowing like a beacon against the darkness. Rio watched the hiker casually skid and jog down a leafy incline to the trimmed path below. In another few minutes, he would be walking right past the very spot where Rio stood.
He was too depleted to hunt, but everything Breed in him was on full alert, ready and waiting for the chance to spring.
To feed, as he so desperately needed to do.
The human strode nearer, unaware of the predator watching him from the cover of the trees. He didn't see the strike coming, not until Rio launched himself out of hiding in one great leap. The human screamed then - a sound of sheer terror. He flailed and struggled, all for nothing.
Rio worked quickly, throwing the young man to the ground and pinning him prone under the bulk of his large backpack. He bit down on the bared column of the human's neck, and filled his mouth with the sudden, hot spill of fresh blood. The nourishment was immediate, sending renewed strength into muscle and bone and mind.
Rio drank what he needed from his Host and no more. A sweep of his tongue sealed the wound; a sweep of his hand over the human's sweat-soaked brow erased all memory of the attack.
"Go," he told him.
The man got up, and soon the flaxen head and bulky pack disappeared into the night.
Rio glanced up at the crescent moon overhead, feeling the hard pound of his pulse as his body absorbed the gift of the human's blood.
