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S aintcrow had taken to sleeping until late in the afternoon since Kadie had been stricken by the plague.

It meant fewer hours without her, fewer hours to worry and wonder if the malady had been concocted or if it was some kind of contagious virus that only affected young vampires.

Either way, there didn’t seem to be any cure in sight.

He muttered an oath when his cell phone rang. A glance at the screen told him it was Kincaid. “What?”

“Izabela has news.”

Saintcrow bolted upright. “Meet you at her place in ten minutes.”

“Right.”

He got there in five to find Kincaid already waiting for him on the front porch.

“What kind of news?” Saintcrow asked while Kincaid rang the bell.

“She wouldn’t say.”

The door creaked open and Izabela smiled at them. “Do either of you mean me any harm?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking that?” Saintcrow muttered.

Izabela shrugged. “There was one occasion long ago when I forgot. But never since then.” She rolled up the right sleeve of the colorful peasant blouse she wore, revealing a long, jagged scar that ran from her shoulder to her elbow. “I ask every time now.”

Saintcrow looked at Kincaid. In unison, they said, “Not to you or anyone else in the house.”

Unlocking the screen door, she stepped back and said, “Come in.”

“You said you have news,” Saintcrow said, following the witch inside.

The one-legged crow ruffled its feathers as they entered. The gray cat looked up from the hearth, yawned, and went back to sleep.

Izabela nodded. “All in good time.” She settled into her rocker.

“Well, what is it?” Saintcrow asked impatiently.

“It will cost you extra,” the witch said nonchalantly.

Saintcrow looked at Kincaid, one brow lifted in silent inquiry.

Kincaid shrugged.

“Fine,” Saintcrow said. “Now, what’s the news?”

“I have discovered the name of the street the little girl lives on.”

“That’s your big news?”

“It’s more than you knew before.”

“There are millions of streets and street signs across the country with the same name,” Kincaid remarked.

“That’s true,” Izabela replied, rocking gently. “In this case, it’s two street names. And a description of the house. But if you do not want it, just say so.”

“Of course we do,” Saintcrow snapped.

“So,” Kincaid said, “what the hell is it?”

“You are willing to pay double the usual price?”

“Yes, yes,” Saintcrow agreed, his patience wearing thin. “Spill it.”

Rising, Izabela said, “The girl lives on the corner of Willow and Fourth Streets. The house is white, with green shutters and a red door. The address is 1416 Willow. I’ll be right back.”

“Well, that’s something,” Saintcrow said. “Of course, knowing the state would be a big help.”

“Damn,” Kincaid muttered sourly. “If we give her twice the blood now, what’s to stop her from asking for more the next time and the next?”

“So, you’ll feed twice as much tonight,” Saintcrow remarked, and fell silent as the witch returned. She carried a wooden box with four glass vials inside.

“Who’s first?” she asked cheerfully.

Rolling up his shirt-sleeve, Saintcrow said, “Let’s get it over with,” and bit into his wrist.

“Damn, damn, and double damn,” Kincaid exclaimed as they left the witch’s house. “I feel like I’ve been bled half to death.”

“Stop whining, you baby,” Saintcrow growled. “At least we have a place to start.”

“I’ll bet every state in the country has dozens of streets named Willow.”

“Probably. But at least we have a description of the house and a street number.”

“So, what do we do?” Kincaid asked. “Start on the West Coast and make our way east?”

“Sounds like a plan. Is Rosa gonna be okay with you spending so much time away from her?”

Kincaid shrugged. “I can always go home for a few hours at night to keep her company. Anyway, absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he said with a grin.

“And it’s for a good cause. She loves Kadie, too, you know.

Hell, we all do. If Rosie gives me any grief, I’ll just promise her a second honeymoon. ”

They started their search the next night.

In spite of being able to transport themselves from state to state and city to city, doing so proved to be a pain in the ass.

As Saintcrow had predicted, Willow proved to be a popular street name.

They found a lot of houses with white paint and green trim, but red doors were scarce.

And so were little girls with long, red pigtails.

Even though they could move from place to place with lightning speed, they often had to wait around a day or more to get a look at everyone who lived in the house.

They had no success in Washington, Oregon, or California.

“At this rate, it’s going to take a lot longer than I thought,” Kincaid complained as they prowled the dark streets of Arizona, looking for prey. And then he paused. “I smell fresh blood.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

The scent led them to an alley behind a bank where two rival gangs were busting heads. Two men were dead, three were down and bleeding bad.

“That’s enough!” Saintcrow’s voice, filled with preternatural power and authority, got the attention of the five guys still standing. Trapping their gazes with his, he commanded them to stay where they were. “Take your pick, Jake.”

Kincaid grimaced. “Can’t we go look for a girl gang?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Saintcrow reminded him, and took the youngest kid for himself. Only to realize that it wasn’t a young man but a girl disguised as a guy. “Damn, girl,” he said. “What are you doing with these punks?”

“They own me,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

“Like hell. Where to do you live?”

She gave him an address in Redondo Beach, California.

Kincaid looked at Saintcrow over his prey’s head. “What’s going on?”

“These guys are keeping a teenage girl prisoner. I’m gonna take her home. I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you finish feeding before I get back, I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

With a nod, Kincaid sank his fangs into his prey’s neck once more.

“What’s your name, girl?” Saintcrow asked as he slipped his arm around her slim waist.

“Lissie.”

“How long have you been away from home?”

“I’m not sure.”

“All right. Close your eyes,” he said. “And don’t open them until I tell you.”

Still under his power, she did as she was told.

When they reached their destination, Saintcrow released her from his thrall. “All right,” he said. “You can open your eyes now. Is this where you live?”

Tears filled the girls eyes when she saw the house. A single light burned in an upstairs window. “Y … yes.”

“Well, go along. I’m sure your parents will be glad to see you.”

“Who are you?”

“Nobody. When you get inside, you won’t even remember me. Go on, now.”

Going up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then ran up the stairs and banged on the door.

A few moments later, Saintcrow heard a man’s voice call, “Who is it?” and the girl’s teary reply, “Dad, it’s me. Lissie.”

“Lissie!” The door flew open and a tall man wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt stepped out on the porch and threw his arms around the girl. “Lissie, Lissie.” Giving her a big hug, he guided her inside and shut the door, but not before Saintcrow heard him holler, “Marge, Billy, Julie, she’s home!”

Feeling pretty good about himself, Saintcrow transported to a nightclub near the beach where he found a woman sitting alone at the bar. He took the stool beside hers and spoke to her mind, then leaned forward, as if he was nuzzling her neck, and bit her gently.

After releasing her from his spell, Saintcrow willed himself to the hotel suite he and Jake had rented for the night.

He found Kincaid on the sofa watching a Western movie on TV.

Saintcrow grinned inwardly. Kincaid had spent some time as a cowboy back in the 1800s and couldn’t get enough of cowboys and Indians.

Saintcrow settled in the easy chair beside the sofa.

“Did you get the girl safely home?” Kincaid asked, his gaze still on the screen.

“What do you think?”

“I know. Silly question. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“We haven’t found anything here. Time to head for Nevada.”

“Some pretty rugged country there,” Kincaid remarked. “Yeah. You still miss the Old West, don’t you?”

“Those were good times,” Jake replied, his voice wistful. “Wide open spaces. Cheap whiskey. Wild horses and wilder women. Bustin’ broncs and bustin’ heads. Yeah,” he said, with a big grin. “I miss those days.”

Saintcrow slapped his hands on the arms of the chair. “I’m going to take a shower and then hit the sheets.”

“I think I’ll go spend the night with Rosa,” Kincaid said, switching off the TV.

Saintcrow nodded, thinking he would gladly give up everything he owned to spend just one more night in Kadie’s arms.

Vampires didn’t usually dream, but that night Saintcrow’s rest was filled with images and memories of his life with Kadie.

He had been smitten with her from the moment they met, had known he had to have her.

Darrick, one of the other vampires who had lived in Morgan Creek at the time, had more or less chosen her as his, but Saintcrow had put a stop to that by claiming her as his own.

Darrick had protested but to no avail. As a master vampire and master of the city, it had been Saintcrow’s right.

Kadie had not been thrilled when he took her to his lair.

Saintcrow smiled with the memory. He could have taken her by force. He could have compelled her to love him, but he had wanted her love to be freely given. And, in the end, she had chosen to stay with him of her own free will.

Since then, they had faced everything together.

Until now. He missed her at his side, missed her smile, her sweetness, her advice, her wisdom.

He missed her in his bed, in his arms, whispering that she loved him, her hands caressing him, the little moans of pleasure that rose in her throat when he possessed her …

He swore under his breath as the ache in his groin grew painful. Shutting his mind to the past, he sank into the dark oblivion of his kind.

Kadie knew she was dreaming, even as she wondered how it was possible.

The images were fragmented and blurry, the colors overly bright, the shapes distorted.

She dreamed of Saintcrow, of meeting him the first time, getting acquainted with the vampires of Morgan Creek, making friends with the other men and women imprisoned in the town.

The women had warned her that Saintcrow was a monster, that he killed the women he took to his house, that he was cruel, heartless. A savage.

None of that had been true and in spite of the fact that he had kept her against her will, she had fallen in love with him.

How could she help it? He was tall, his hips lean, his skin dusky, his eyes dark, his hair long and inky black.

The thin, white scar on his cheek should have detracted from his good looks, but it only made him look sexier.

The most amazing thing had been his age.

He had lived as a vampire for over nine hundred years.

The very idea had fascinated her as she had considered all the amazing things he must have seen and done in that time.

She remembered a night when he had taken her out to dinner. Trapped in the darkness, she relived it in her mind …

Saintcrow poured a glass of wine for himself, then looked at Kadie.

She shook her head.

“ Are you sure? It’s a very good year. ”

“ I don’t like wine. I don’t like you, and I never will. ”

“ You might not like me,” he said quietly. “But you want me. ”

“I do not!” she said hotly.

“ You can lie to yourself, Kadie, but you can’t lie to me.” He leaned forward, his gaze intent on her face. “I can taste the longing on you, smell it on your skin, hear it in the rapid beat of your heart. ”

She stared at him, mesmerized by the blatant desire in his eyes. His words wrapped around her, his breath caressed her cheek.

Swearing softly, he drew back when the waitress reappeared with Kadie’s dinner.

Kadie drew a deep, shuddering sigh. She could deny it until she turned blue in the face, but he was right.

She had wanted him then, though she had refused to admit it. And she still wanted him.

Even now, even here, locked in a never-ending sea of darkness, she yearned for his touch, the sound of his voice, the love in his eyes, his slow, sexy smile. She clung to the memory of that smile as oblivion swallowed her whole.