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The sound that exploded out of him was more than a scream. It was his soul turning inside out and flying into the room with a shattering physical presence. Furniture rattled across the floor, books shivered off shelves, and statues toppled. The wall of black glass exploded before the power of his wrath roaring into the night—promising revenge.

22

Fear

Bijou came at dawn.

Beyond the shattered glass walls, the sky was brighter than Dominique had seen it since his mortal days. His eyes watered, but still he was conscious. His beast was anxious, but a long way from the usual blind panic. Perhaps it was the fire-blood. Or maybe he didn’t care about himself anymore. Even his darkest nature quailed over the loss of Cassidy to a demonic madman.

He recognized the cadence of Bijou’s heels click-clacking in the hall outside, but he didn’t react when she pushed open the door. Dressed in a pale-green, floor-length satin slip, she stood, surveying the wreckage he had caused with his voice alone. “Are you quite done destroying my home?”

He didn’t respond. He would burn the place to its foundation if he thought it would get him Cassidy back.

Bijou walked up to him. Her delicate nostrils twitched, taking in his altered scent. “So he gave you his vein. And this is how you repay him? Over a human?” Her round doll-like face pinched in an ugly sneer. “Stupid, stupid child.”

“Get out and let me die in peace.”

Her eyes narrowed as though she considered doing just that. But then she said, “That is not for me to say.”

Grabbing both sword hilts at once, she yanked back with brutal force. Dominique’s vision blurred as his left femur and right shoulder blade splintered in unison. He bit back the urge to scream, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing his pain. With an agonized grunt, he dropped to the ground. His injuries crackled, mending again with stunning speed.

Bijou dropped the bloody blades, letting them clatter on the tiles to either side of her stilettos. “You may spend the day as my guest,” she said, her tone far from welcoming.

He sat up, mostly healed, though the bones in his shoulder and thigh still ached and prickled ferociously. “I would rather watch the sunrise.”

She graced him with a long look that might have been grudging compassion. “I am not your enemy, you know.”

“Oh? Are you not his to command, then?”

“I am. As are we all.”

A shiver rippled through his innards with the coming sun. The first tendrils of fog swirled in his mind. Within ten minutes at most, its pull would suck him under. The beast had enough dawdling. Using the wood relief of the medieval warrior—now smeared with blood—for support, he stood and put weight on his leg, forcing the bone to finish healing faster. “Not me.”

“Suit yourself.” While he collected the swords and their scabbards, she retreated, but paused at the doorway to half-turn her head. “Know this, young one. Your sire is a man relishing his first good chase in centuries. The harder you run…the harder he will come after you.”

When Dominique regained consciousness, he wondered why he was awake, even though he could still feel the sun’s weight. Then he remembered the sun groping for him with searing paws as he ran. At some point, his alter ego must have taken control and sunk him into this sandy grave.

Seconds later, he recalled the rest.

He exploded from the soggy ground under a hedge of sea grapes and violently shook the wet sand from his clothes and hair. Beneath a leaden gray sky, the ocean still shimmered in the day’s last light. The dark bulk of Apokryphos was, of course, nowhere to be seen. Not that he expected Kambyses to make this easy for him.

Simmering with renewed rage, he tore through the seaside vegetation to retrieve his swords and raced back to Bijou’s mansion. Tonight, he knew he had the strength to finish her. Apparently, so did she. The house contained not a single heartbeat, mortal or otherwise.

“La prochaine fois,” he promised the empty rooms on a growl. Next time. Next time, they would be more evenly matched. As long as next time was soon. His newfound abilities would weaken in a matter of days.

The bike was where he left it. It still dripped from the day’s rain, but was otherwise untouched. When he pulled the helmet over his head, Cassidy’s scent nearly undid him, nearly drove him over the edge into despair. But by the time he raced the bike up to Serge’s lair half an hour later, he was back to unbridled fury.

Samantha burst from the door, bundled in an oversize gray sweater. “Thank God you’re back. I’ve been worried sick all day.”

“Keep worrying then,” Dominique said as he pulled off the helmet.

“I…wait. Where’s…” Whatever she saw in his face made her take a step back and hug herself. “Oh, God. What ha—?”

He vanished from the spot. There was no point explaining anything to someone so powerless to help.

Serge waited for him behind the cottage. He sat on a pontoon of his tiny vessel and stared at the rolling surf. The un-cleated sail flapped violently when Dominique bolted past, snatched up Serge, and pinned him to the wet sand. Serge gaped, mouth working like a landed fish amidst a dusting of beard.

“You knew this would happen, you filthy idiot,” Dominique roared into his face. “You knew what danger she was in. You knew, and you let this happen!” His body tightened around his bones, and his canines lengthened. The kaleidoscope of color that was the beast’s vision flared before his eyes, but with a shocking new intensity.