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There wasn’t enough blood.

There should be more blood.

While he waited for Morley to join him on the second floor, Nick stood in the middle of the mezzanine corridor and looked down.

For the first time, he noticed the wall opposite the staircase.

The entire surface was covered in swords and other ancient weapons.

Row upon row of them hung over and around the red-painted door, from two-headed battle axes to metal clubs, morning stars, short spears, two and one-handed broadswords, hand-crafted swords in the old katana style from Japan.

Staring around at them, Nick felt sick.

He could smell the baby better up here. He could smell the death better, too.

Like Jordan said, it all happened upstairs, in that room where he was now.

He wondered how Morley was taking it.

Not just the death of the baby, but the whole family.

Maybe, like Nick, he hadn’t really let himself think about it yet. Morley must have known there was a good possibility they’d find them all dead, especially after the Long Island police refused to come out here.

Like Nick, Morley had known exactly who lived here, in this house.

He’d known about the baby.

Still, knowing something was likely and having it confirmed weren’t the same thing. It had to be ripping the old man up, if Nick knew him at all.

Fighting that out of his mind, Nick refocused on the weapon-covered wall.

He saw a few empty hooks at various points and frowned.

At least one of those weapons was missing.

Fuck.

Well, that couldn’t be good.

Filing the information away, Nick tried again to get a feel for this place, for this family, for why the vampire might have chosen them.

He knew some part of him was looking for a reason.

He hoped to find a reason that didn’t lead back to him.

He really, really didn’t want this to be about him, Nick Tanaka. The idea that this whole family might have died because of him, because they had the misfortune of sharing Nick’s last name, was more than he could bear.

But he couldn’t find anything really.

They’d been rich, obviously.

Whoever had lived here, they didn’t share the light, airy, family vibe of the house in the Upper Westside of Manhattan. That house, even with its goofy, trendy furniture, the overabundance of virtual reality gadgets and mediocre, overpriced art, still felt like a home.

Walking inside that space, Nick couldfeelthat a family lived there.

When he closed his eyes, he could see them running up and down the stairs, playing video games in the hi-tech living room, throwing toys at one another, eating together, talking and laughing around the long table just off the kitchen, getting ready for work and school. The playroom in that house felt well-used, completely swamped by their scents and presence.

Nick had reallyfeltthe family in that other house.