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Michael, I know you can hear me. If you don't start answering, I'm going to raid that damn cabin of yours and slap some sense into you.
He smiled reluctantly. Over the last six months, Seline had been a constant, if distant, companion. She badgered him endlessly, never letting his resolve slip, never letting him give up hope. She'd been his strength in the early days of darkness, when the demon was close to winning control, and he'd just wanted to give up the fight permanently.
He owed her his life, but she still managed to annoy the hell out of him. A man would be hard-pressed to sleep with you around, Seline. If a man wants to sleep when I'm around, he needs to be certified. The gentle lilt of her mind-voice deepened provocatively. He snorted softly. Seline was a thin, frail-looking woman, but she certainly didn't look the one hundred and eighty years he knew her to be. And she certainly didn't act it—as her many lovers would no doubt attest. Bit early for your nightly check-in, isn't it?
We have a problem, Michael. I think we're going to need your help. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. Seline's type of problem was the one thing he could live without right now. He'd spent too long battling the need to kill, struggling against the urge to taste the sweet strength of human blood. To confront such desires in another might be too much of a test for his newly found resolve.
Yet if he stayed locked up here in his retreat, he would never really know if the battle had been won. What type of problem?
Disappearances.
He frowned. People disappeared every day in the U.S.—some intentional, some not. It was something Seline didn't usually involve the Circle in—unless there were dark forces at play. What type of disappearances are we talking about?
Her confusion swept down the mental link between them. It was an odd enough occurrence to make him sit up straight and start paying more attention.
We're not really sure. For almost a week now, I've had a feeling that something was wrong. But it wasn't until I picked up the paper this evening and read about the disappearance of Vance Hutton that the feeling crystallized into certainty.
Michael frowned. We're talking about Vance Hutton, the actor? Didn't he just get married?
Yeah—to that scrawny English actress.
Scorn overlaid her thoughts, and he smiled. The old witch had been rather keen on Hutton. She beat you to the punch, huh?
She chuckled. I wasn't planning to marry the boy—just bed him. Had she really set her mind to it, she would no doubt have succeeded. It was amazing what makeup and a little magic could hide. How did he disappear?
He was apparently honeymooning in Wyoming—some exclusive resort in Jackson Hole. He frowned. Jackson Hole was primarily a ski area, although with the abundant wildlife and its proximity to Yellowstone and several other national parks, it had a good run with summer tourists as well. So what happened to him?
Her shrug shimmered down the mental line. That's the problem—no one knows. That skinny woman he married woke up one morning to find him gone. He apparently left everything behind—wallet, money and most of his clothes. There was no note, and no indication that he was feeling suicidal or depressed.
Have the police been called in?
Naturally. They're as clueless as the wife.
Michael scratched his chin, then rose from the sofa and crossed to the window. Night had closed in, but the moon was bright, silvering the aspens lining his driveway. Jackson Hole wasn't that far away—a couple hours’ drive at the most.
A fact Seline was well aware of.
Yet he held back the offer to go investigate. Past experience warned it was wise to wait when it came to Seline and her visions. Jump too soon, and you didn't get the entire story. Not that she ever sent her investigators into situations blind—far from it. But she often had information on the emotional impact of certain situations that she didn't impart unless pushed.
It had happened to him. She'd sent him to Lyndhurst to catch the man who'd murdered his brother. He'd not only succeeded in killing Jasper, but had lost his heart in the process. He closed his eyes, fighting the desire to reach out through the link forged between him and Nikki. Six months without contact seemed like an eternity, and he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to survive the years ahead without her. Yet some days it seemed all he had to do was close his eyes and he could feel the caress of her fingers against his skin. Could feel the warmth of her smile in his mind. Neither of which he would ever actually feel again.
He had no intention of contacting her after all this time. It wasn't fair to give her hope when his work made even the possibility of a life together an impossible dream. He caressed the silver cross he wore around his neck and stared moodily at the star-drenched sky. What makes you think this is a case for the Circle to get involved in?
Instinct, Michael. There's more to this case than meets the eye. I checked back through the papers. It seems people have a habit of disappearing from this particular resort—fifteen in the last year, in fact. How could fifteen people disappear without someone—particularly the press—getting wind of the fact and raising a commotion? Have any of the missing turned up again?
All but three. I did some checking, though, and it appears they have become somewhat reclusive, only seen at night, never in daylight.
They're vampires. Hence Seline's desire for him to investigate. Sometimes the only way to track down a killer was to send another after them.
Yet they do not exhibit the classic feeding-frenzy symptoms of a newly turned vampire. From all accounts, they're still working, still living with their families, still eating normally. Then what are they? There was no way around the feeding frenzy stage—no magic that could cure the insatiable hunger of the newly turned. It was something you had to work through and survive. Not many did, and certainly not in a matter of weeks.
I'm not sure, and at this stage, it's not them I'm worried about. It's the resort. Whenever I try to do a reading on the place, all I get is darkness. Something evil resides there, Michael, and its influence grows by the day. We have to stop it.
But why me? If it wasn't a vampire they were dealing with, just about any of the Circle's other investigators were currently better equipped to investigate.
Seline was silent for a second. Michael crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the window frame. She was trying to decide just how much to tell him. If he played hard to get, she'd eventually open up and explain why she wanted him on this mission rather than the others. There are two reasons it must be you.
Her mind-voice was hesitant. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. In the century he'd known the old witch, indecision was something he'd rarely heard in her.
