Page 30 of John’s Yearning

“Oh.” Disappointment oozed from this one syllable.

“But we have a possible lead.”

“What kind of lead?”

“It’s too early to tell.” He didn’t want her to act awkwardly around Alexi, alerting him in any way, should he really have something to do with Buffy’s disappearance. “My team and I are following up on it.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “This is just the start. We’re looking at everything. We’ll find her.” He knew he was promising something he couldn’t guarantee. But Savannah needed to hear it. Needed to believe it.

“Thank you, John. I…” She hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” His gaze shot up to the windows of her flat, but he saw no movement.

“I’m scared. It’s been four days now.” There was a sniffling sound, as if she was trying to hold back tears. “I miss her. I miss my baby.”

“I’m doing everything I can.”

“I know that. I just wish there was something I could do. I feel so useless.”

He could only imagine what that feeling must be like and hoped never to have to experience it himself. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I know it’s hard. I know you love her. I will find her for you.”

A slow exhale came through the line. If she started to cry now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from running across the street, braving the sun to take her in his arms and comfort her.

“Please, Savannah, you have to hold it together. For Buffy.” And for me.

“I will. Please call me as soon as you hear something.”

“I promise.”

John disconnected the call and set the car in motion, before he could change his mind and do something irresponsible.

He left Savannah’s neighborhood and headed for Cow Hollow, a trendy neighborhood with high home prices and a large number of yoga-pants wearing yuppies, which had been his original destination before his subconscious had sent him in another direction.

The house was tucked away at the bottom of the Lyon steps, its garden backing up to the Presidio. Facing the street and taking up half the width of the lot, was a double garage. John stopped in front of it and let the engine idle, while he scrolled through his phone directory until he found the right contact.

He let it ring. Once, twice, three times. Finally, after the fourth ring, just before it could go to voicemail, a sleepy voice answered.

“During the day? Really, John?”

Deirdre didn’t sound too pleased about being awoken. He was planning to change that.

“I need to talk to you. It can’t wait. Open the garage for me.”

“You’re outside?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” A few seconds later, the garage door lifted. When it was completely open, he drove in and switched off the engine.

“I’m in,” he said into the phone.

There was a click in the line, then the garage door lowered behind him, shutting out the sun.

Moments later he entered the hallway that led to the living area and the kitchen. He waited there, when he heard footsteps on the wooden stairs leading to the second floor. He looked up. Deirdre, her hair in disarray, dressed in a long black robe, walked down the steps.

“This had better be good,” she said by way of greeting.

“It is,” he assured her.

She motioned to the kitchen and he walked there ahead of her. He’d been here a couple of times after she’d moved in, and had assured himself that the place was vampire-safe. All the windows had been retrofitted with UV-impenetrable film, blocking out the rays of the sun. The house was huge. Deirdre had money, lots of it. It tended to happen when one lived several centuries. Just a matter of compounding interest. But with all her money she couldn’t buy herself a purpose in her new life. He was about to change that.