Page 15

K incaid arrived at the agreed upon time. Since they were in Wyoming, Saintcrow decided they might as well check out the state before searching the other towns in the West.

An hour later, he muttered an oath as he stared at the house on the corner of Willow and Fourth in Laramie. White paint, green trim, red front door.

“Guess we should have started in our own backyard,” Kincaid remarked with a rueful grin.

“No shit.”

They were debating what to do next when the front door opened and a little girl with red pigtails stepped out onto the porch, walked down the stairs, and skipped toward the mailbox.

The child came to an abrupt halt when she saw the two men standing at the curb.

“He’s still in there,” Saintcrow said quietly.

“If we can grab her …” He swore as he felt Luca’s presence surround him.

Damn! The necromancer was trying to transfer from the girl’s body to his.

Shouting, “Kincaid, get out of here!” Saintcrow summoned every ounce of preternatural power he possessed to block Luca.

Kincaid didn’t waste time asking questions, just vanished.

Saintcrow and the little girl stared at each other. It was downright creepy, feeling the necromancer’s malevolent power radiating from the child. “Luca, let her go.”

“Make me.” The voice was the little girl’s, but the hatred in her tone was Luca’s.

The necromancer tried one more time to penetrate Saintcrow’s shield, and then a faint white mist in the shimmery shape of a man floated out of the child’s chest and disappeared from sight.

The girl stood there a moment, looking confused. And then, humming a cheerful tune, she retrieved the mail from the box and ran back up the porch stairs and into the house.

He heard her calling, “Mama! Mama!”

“Dammit!” Saintcrow growled as he walked down the street. “How the hell are we ever gonna to find him now?”

Kincaid was waiting for him on the bridge that connected Morgan Creek to the highway. “What the hell happened back there?”

Saintcrow shook his head. “Luca left the girl and disappeared, but not before he tried to transfer into me. Scariest damn thing I’ve ever encountered.”

“Well, shit, how the devil do we find him now?”

“I don’t know. Dammit! We were so close!

” They had to find Luca and it had to be soon, Saintcrow thought.

And then he frowned. They didn’t even know if Luca was responsible for the plague.

Filled with a rising tide of rage and frustration, Saintcrow slammed his fist against one of the bridge supports.

The post, the size of a tree trunk, cracked with a sound like thunder.

“So, we’re right back at where we started,” Kincaid muttered.

Saintcrow stared into the distance. And then he grunted. “Maybe not. Let’s go see Izabela.”

After the usual ubiquitous opening question by the witch and the expected replies, Izabela invited the two vampires into the house. “Any luck?”

“Yes and no,” Saintcrow said. “We found him and then we lost him.”

“So, what do you want of me?” She settled in her rocker, the cat curled up at her feet.

Kincaid sat on the edge of the sofa.

Saintcrow remained standing. “If I go back and read the little girl’s mind, do you think I’d learn anything that would help?”

Izabela rocked gently while she considered Saintcrow’s question, and then she shrugged. “Perhaps. I should think it would depend on the girl, how smart she is, what Luca might have said or thought. You’ve got nothing to lose if it doesn’t work.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” Saintcrow gestured at Kincaid and they headed for the door.

“Let me know if you find anything,” Izabela called after them.

“Wow,” Kincaid remarked when they materialized in the tavern at Morgan Creek. “I think that’s the first time I got out of there without leaving anything behind.”

Saintcrow returned to the white house with the green shutters and the red door late the following afternoon, quietly cursing the threshold that kept him outside.

He stood on the sidewalk in the shadows cast by a large elm tree, wondering what the chances were that the girl would come outside to collect the mail again.

For once, luck was with him. The door opened and she ran down to the mailbox. She skidded to a stop, her eyes wide with fear and recognition, when he stepped out from behind the tree.

Saintcrow smiled at her. A quick scan of her mind gave him her name. “Hi, Lucy.”

She frowned at him. “Go away. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger,” he said, and speaking to her mind, he planted a memory. “I met you the other day, while you were playing hopscotch. Don’t you remember?”

Her frown deepened. And then she smiled. “Mr. Saintcrow. You know my dad.”

“Right.” He smiled at her again as his mind took hold of hers.

The little girl had several imaginary friends that she spoke to on a regular basis—a pink unicorn named Miranda, a yellow parakeet named Peanuts, a fairy princess named Lady Jane.

Luca had convinced the child he was the unicorn.

Unfortunately, the necromancer hadn’t shared any of his plans with her.

Traces of Luca’s anger lingered in the girl’s memory, as well as his lust for vengeance against the two vampires who had trapped his soul.

It took only moments to erase those memories from the child’s mind.

“Lucy!”

Saintcrow looked up as the girl’s mother ran down the porch steps.

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk to strangers?” the woman said, her voice tinged with panic.

“He’s not a stranger, Mama,” Lucy said. “He’s Mr. Saintcrow.”

The woman stared at him, her brow deeply furrowed. “Should I know you?”

“No.” Trapping her gaze with his, he wiped his memory from her mind, and from the child’s as well. And then he turned and walked down the street until he was out of sight.

A few moments later, he materialized inside the saloon in Morgan Creek.

“Did you learn anything?” Kincaid asked.

“Nothing, other than the fact that he’s out to get both of us.”

“No surprise there. I guess we can assume he’ll be staying in Wyoming for a while.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Saintcrow replied. If Luca left the state, it was unlikely that they would ever find him again. Dammit!

Kincaid frowned. “I know you’ve warded the town against intruders. Does that include the spirits of dead necromancers?”

“I don’t know,” Saintcrow said. “We might try luring him here as a last resort.”

Saintcrow lingered in the saloon after Kincaid left to see Rosa.

Sitting on a barstool, a glass of expensive red wine in his hand, he thought about Kadie.

If a necromancer could make a spell to totally incapacitate her, why couldn’t another witch make a spell to unravel it?

Of course, Izabela was the only witch he knew.

She had made a thick gold cuff embossed with what looked like Celtic runes that had barred Luca from detecting Kincaid’s presence no matter where he was.

Saintcrow frowned as something about Luca tickled his memory.

Something he had seen in the necromancer’s house the last time they had gone there.

Something he’d ignored. At first glance, he had thought the long, black robe with a yellow half-moon embroidered on the front was just a bathrobe.

He had seen it on the foot of a bed as they made their way to the cellar.

At the time, he had assumed it belonged to someone in the house, but what if it was a cloak?

Luca’s cloak. It wasn’t impossible. He had caught a faint trace of the necromancer’s scent but had paid scant attention to it as they passed by.

Grabbing his cell phone, he tapped Kincaid’s number. Not bothering with ‘hello’, he said, “Get back here right away,” and ended the call.

Moments later, Kincaid appeared in the saloon. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Do you remember seeing a black velvet robe in Luca’s place the day we found the dagger?”

Kincaid frowned and then nodded. “It was on a bed. Why?”

“I think it was a cloak and that it belonged to Luca. I thought I caught a whiff of his scent, but I figured it was left over from when he lived there.”

Kincaid’s eyes lit up with understanding. “If it’s his, Izabela might be able to conjure his whereabouts!”

“Right the first time. We’ll go back to Luca’s tomorrow and take a look at the robe. Hell, why wait until tomorrow? Let’s go now.”

“Now?” Kincaid exclaimed. “It’s almost 1 a.m.”

“You got something better to do?” Saintcrow asked dryly.

“In fact, I do,” Kincaid said. Rosa was in bed, waiting for him.

Then, seeing the look in Saintcrow’s eyes, he muttered, “I guess it can wait.” Rosa would never be able to return to Morgan Creek if they didn’t find a way to get rid of this damn curse.

And while they could always live somewhere else, Morgan Creek was home.

“Here’s the plan,” Saintcrow said. “We’ve already been invited into the house, so we’ll transport ourselves inside and get a good look at the robe.”

“And if it belonged to Luca?”

“We’ll take it with us.”

Minutes later, they were inside the dark house. On silent feet, they made their way down the narrow hall to the bedroom where Saintcrow had seen the robe. It was lying across the foot of a young girl’s bed. And it was, indeed, a cloak.

Stepping into the room, Saintcrow picked it up and took a deep breath before handing it to Kincaid. “What do you think?”

“It’s his. Definitely. That’s a scent I’m not likely to forget. How do you suppose it survived the fire?”

Saintcrow shrugged. “Let’s just be glad that it did.

” He glanced at the sleeping girl. She slept on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.

She was a pretty thing, with long blonde hair and delicate features.

He hated to steal from her but his need for the cloak was far greater than hers. “Let’s go see Izabela.”

“At this time of the night? Are you kidding?”

“Listen, after all the blood I’ve sacrificed to that witch, she can lose a little sleep.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kincaid muttered.

It was an unhappy witch who flung open the door. She wore a purple velour robe over a long white nightgown. “Do you know what time it is?” she asked irritably. “I’ve half a mind to turn you both into toads.”

“Later,” Saintcrow said. For a minute, he thought she would refuse to invite them inside. But then she asked the ubiquitous question, tapped her bare foot as she waited for the customary reply.

Still looking cross, she unlocked the screen door and invited them in.

Saintcrow remained on the porch when Kincaid crossed the threshold and let out a startled yelp.

Face twisted with pain, Kincaid glared at the witch. “What the hell was that for?” he growled.

“For waking me up,” Izabela replied, with a shrug. She looked at Saintcrow, a grin twitching her lips. “Well? Are you coming in?”

“What do you think?” he retorted and crossed the threshold. Knowing what was coming, he clamped his lips together, but he couldn’t help flinching as a streak of lightning-like pain speared through him.

“So, what brings you two here at this hour of the morning?” Izabela asked as she picked up the gray cat and settled in her rocker.

“This cloak,” Kincaid said, handing it to her. “It belonged to Luca. Is it possible to use it to find his whereabouts?”

“Possibly.” She ran her hand over the rich velvet. “Locating a disembodied spirit isn’t like finding a set of car keys, you know. It takes time and effort and enormous concentration. Not everyone can do it.”f

“But?”

She shrugged. “I’ll do my best. I may have to call in a friend of mine to help.”

“What kind of friend?” Saintcrow asked.

“A rather powerful warlock.”

Kincaid and Saintcrow exchanged glances.

“Does he require the same form of payment?” Kincaid asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Who is this warlock?” Saintcrow asked.

“I’m not at liberty to give you his name just now,” Izabela said. “But he’s very good at what he does.” She conjured four vials, then looked at the vampires, one brow raised. “Who’s first?”

Kincaid stepped forward, bit into his wrist, and watched his blood fill the first vial. As the second bottle began to fill, he looked at Saintcrow, and with a grimace, he said, “By the time this is over, we’ll be the world’s first anemic vampires.”