Page 6

S aintcrow sat at the bar in the tavern located in the Morgan Creek Hotel.

Years ago, he had given Ethan the green light to renovate the town.

Between them, they had turned an old ghost town into a popular resort with a luxurious hotel and campground, not to mention a movie theater and a library, a market, shops, and a swimming pool.

After the curse hit, Saintcrow had announced an outbreak of influenza, given everyone vacationing in the town a full refund and sent them away.

When the last guest had departed, he locked up the town, warded the bridge and the mountains that surrounded Morgan Creek against any and all intruders, man or vampire, save for Kincaid.

After the last four months, Morgan Creek was again, for all intents and purposes, a ghost town.

He glanced up as Kincaid materialized on the barstool beside him.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Saintcrow remarked. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just thought you might like some company. How are you doing?”

“I’m in hell. Same as always. Any ideas on how to find Luca?”

Kincaid shook his head. “No. You?”

Saintcrow went behind the bar and filled two snifters with red wine. “Have you talked to the witch again?” he asked, passing one of the glasses to Jake.

“No. She said she’d contact me if she found anything. Maybe there’s nothing to find. We don’t even know if Luca’s the one responsible.”

“Who else could it be?”

“I don’t know.” Kincaid drained the wine in a single swallow. “I wondered if it might be Izabela,” he said. “I guess she read my mind, because what I was thinking really pissed her off.”

Saintcrow stared at him. “Izabela? What would she have to gain?”

“I don’t know. It was just a thought. Rosa said to tell you hello and wants to know if there’s anything the family can do.”

“I don’t know what the hell it would be.”

“She’s getting homesick. I don’t know how much longer I can make her stay in Arizona.”

“Text her a picture of Kadie,” Saintcrow said, his voice laced with barely suppressed rage and helplessness. “That’ll change her mind about coming back here right quick.”

Kincaid nodded. He couldn’t imagine what Saintcrow was going through, didn’t know what he would have done if Rosa had been similarly affected. “Do you think there’s any chance that the curse will just kind of fade away?”

“I don’t know. I suppose, over time, it might weaken. Then again, it could grow stronger.”

“How will we know?”

Saintcrow shrugged.” Bring in a young vampire and see what happens.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I guess so,” Saintcrow replied.

“Well, if this goes on much longer, I’m going to have to buy a house for Rosa. She’s going stir crazy in that hotel.”

“I thought you were staying with her folks.”

“We were. They’re great people but …” Kincaid shook his head. “Married people should have a home of their own. Ethan and Sofia are lucky to have their own house.” Jake grunted thoughtfully. “Maybe I should buy Rosa a house in Arizona. Or rent one, anyway.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Saintcrow remarked.

“Yeah. Listen, I haven’t fed yet. What do you say we go hunt something up?”

With an exasperated sigh, Saintcrow said, “Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

They hunted the dark streets of Casper. On the spur of the moment, Kincaid decided they should prey only on red-headed women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.

“Young blood,” Saintcrow mused as he ran his tongue along the neck of the girl in his arms. There was nothing like it.

Kadie’s blood had been the sweetest of all.

Kadie. Not for the first time, he wondered how long she could survive without feeding before she became nothing but an emaciated husk.

If they found a cure, how long would it take for her to recover?

Would she recover? What if being trapped in that damn spell messed with her mind, her memories?

Lost in thought, he bit the woman harder than he meant to. Blood spurted from the vein in her neck. Muttering an oath, he licked the wound to seal it, although he was sorely tempted to take her life. Why should this woman be alive when Kadie was locked in some kind of hideous hell?

“Saintcrow, don’t.”

Rylan muttered an oath as he lifted his head. He sent a grateful glance at Kincaid as he released the woman from his thrall and sent her away. He was close to the edge, he mused. Too damn close. “Let’s go home.”

Izabela thumbed through her favorite grimoire, her gaze perusing each page.

She knew every spell and incantation by heart, had even concocted new ones.

It had taken days to find a spell strong enough to trap and contain a necromancer.

How in the name of all that was magical had Luca managed to escape?

Knowing Saintcrow and Kincaid might err in some small way when they cast the spell, she had made it as close to fool-proof as she knew how.

And yet Luca had escaped. And in so doing, must have taken possession of another body, either man or animal.

If he failed to find a suitable host, his soul would wander the earth without form, gradually growing weaker, until it floated into the atmosphere, a lost soul, with no more substance than a cloud.

Izabela slammed the book shut. Without knowing what body he currently inhabited, finding him was virtually impossible.

It had been three years since she had bound Luca inside the soul-catcher. With luck, the vampires might be able to locate a trace of his remains, but the odds were one in a million. Still, it might be their only hope.

Kincaid frowned as he dropped his cell phone on the sofa in the hotel suite where he and Rosa were staying.

He had hoped Izabela was calling with good news, but there was none.

According to the witch, their only hope was to find some trace of Luca’s body—bones or teeth or hair or the like—and pray that the witch could use the remains to create a location spell that would lead them to whatever body the necromancer was currently inhabiting.

Muttering an oath, Kincaid scooped up his phone and called Saintcrow.

The master vampire answered on the first ring. “Well?”

“I’m afraid she didn’t have any good news. She said the only possibility is to find a piece of Luca. With luck, she might be able to concoct a spell that would lead us to whatever body he’s currently inhabiting.”

Kincaid held the phone away from his ear as Saintcrow unleashed a string of oaths, a few in languages Kincaid had never heard before. “You done?”

“Yeah. Shit. Are you busy?”

“No. Rosa went to visit her parents.”

“You game to go see if there’s anything of Luca left to find?”

“Damn right. I’ll meet you there.”

Standing in front of what had once been Luca’s house, Kincaid muttered, “Well, hell. I thought I burned the place to the ground.”

Saintcrow shook his head. “Somebody must have called the fire department at the first sign of smoke.” It was obvious part of the house had been rebuilt, the rest renovated.

The house boasted a new coat of paint, new windows, and a new front door.

Flowers bloomed in the yard, a rope swing hung from one of the trees.

No trace of the necromancer’s evil remained.

Saintcrow glanced at Kincaid. “You game to go see what we can find?”

Taking a deep breath, Kincaid nodded.

Conscious of Kincaid’s reluctance to enter the place, Saintcrow climbed the stairs, and rang the bell. Jake stood behind him, fists tightly clenched. Saintcrow heard light footsteps inside and then the door opened and a middle-aged woman stood there wiping her hands on a bright orange dish towel.

Her gaze moved from Saintcrow to Kincaid and back again. “May I help you?”

Saintcrow nodded as his mind spoke to hers. You will invite us in.

“Please, come in.” Her voice was flat, her expression blank.

“Thank you. We’d like to see the cellar.”

“Of course,” she said, in the same, dull tone. “It’s this way.”

They followed her through the house and down the stairs.

Kincaid’s gaze swept the cellar as memories of being imprisoned here by Luca filled his mind—memories of pain and torture and helplessness.

If not for Saintcrow, he might have died here.

The cages and the table and the instruments of torture were gone, as was the guillotine.

A sofa, a pair of recliners, a big screen TV, and a pool table occupied the space now.

The concrete floor had been painted dark gray, no doubt to cover the blood stains.

A couple of large throw rugs added a touch of color to the room.

Saintcrow blew out a breath. He had known finding a trace of the necromancer was a long shot since Kincaid had set the place on fire. But it had been worth a try. “You ready to go?”

Kincaid nodded. He was about to follow the woman and Saintcrow up the stairs when he saw it, an antique silver dagger that had somehow escaped the fire. It had been framed and hung on the wall between two paintings. He recognized the dagger as Luca’s immediately.

“We’re taking the dagger,” Kincaid told the woman as he carefully removed the blade from the frame. “If anyone asks what happened to it, you will tell them it was stolen.”

The woman nodded. “Stolen. Yes.”

“We’ll be leaving now,” Saintcrow said. “When we’re gone, you won’t remember this conversation or that we were here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She led the way up the stairs.

“Remember, tell no one we were here,” Kincaid called over his shoulder as he followed Saintcrow out of the house and down the front steps.

“I guess our next move is to get the dagger to Izabela,” Saintcrow remarked.

Kincaid nodded. “You ready?”

“Not really, but let’s go.”

Moments later, they materialized on Izabela’s front porch. Kincaid rapped on the door.

She opened it immediately. “First one, and now both of you,” she grumbled. “I thought I had seen the last of you two three years ago.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Saintcrow said dryly. “You gonna let us in?”

Her gaze moved over her visitors from head to foot. “Do either of you mean me any harm?”

Saintcrow looked at Kincaid and shook his head. She asked the same damn question every damn time.

“Not you, or anyone else in your house,” they answered in unison.

She smiled faintly and unlocked the screen door. “You may come in.”

Kincaid nodded. “Thanks.”

“So what brings the two of you here?” No sooner had she made herself comfortable in her favorite rocker than the gray cat jumped onto her lap.

“We searched Luca’s house,” Saintcrow said. “Unfortunately, some new people bought the place and had it renovated. There’s no trace of him anywhere.”

“The only thing we could find is this,” Kincaid said, and offered her the blade. “Any chance it might help?”

Izabela turned the weapon over in her hands.

It was heavy and because it had been crafted by dark magic, it carried the scents of all the people whose lives it had taken.

But it also carried the faint scent of Luca’s blood, although she wasn’t sure it would be of any help, since he no longer resided in his own body.

“A piece of Luca would be better,” she said, grimacing as she laid the dagger on the table beside the rocker.

“But this may help a little. Have you no idea where he might be?”

Kincaid shook his head. “None.”

Saintcrow grunted softly. “I take it the black box wasn’t any help?”

She shrugged. “It carries his scent, nothing more.”

“What will happen to the body he’s occupying now?” Kincaid asked.

“I doubt he will harm it as long as it is useful to him.”

“And if he tires of it?” Saintcrow asked.

She lifted her hand in a negligent gesture. “He will likely move to another. Depending on the mental strength of his hosts, he will be able to compel them to do his bidding as he did with Rhinehart.”

Saintcrow swore softly. Dammit! If Luca managed to transfer into a man with a weak mind and great physical strength, and if he was still in control of his magic, there was no telling what harm he could do. They had to find him, and soon. But how?

“Is there anything else you require of me?” Izabela asked, a feral gleam in her eye.

Kincaid and Saintcrow exchanged glances.

“Not at the moment,” Saintcrow said.

“Then payment must be made.”

Saintcrow muttered an oath when she left the room, returning a few moments later carrying two small glass vials.

When she stood before him, he bit into his wrist and held it over one of the containers, watching with faint amusement as his dark blood filled the bottle.

All told, she must have taken a pint or two since his first visit.

he mused, as she capped the bottle and slipped it into her skirt pocket.

Kincaid grimaced as he bit into his wrist. She was like the witch equivalent of the Red Cross. When the second vial was full, he said, “You’ll let us know if you discover anything?”

“Of course,” she replied with a wicked grin. “But it will cost you.”

Kincaid grunted softly as he followed Saintcrow out of the house. For a moment, they stood on the porch. “Keep in touch,” Jake said. “And let me know if there’s any change in Kadie.”

Saintcrow nodded, wondering what the witch did with all that blood. Maybe one of these days he’d find the nerve to ask her. And maybe not.

At home, Saintcrow materialized in their bedroom lair.

Kadie was as he had left her—pale, unmoving, and he wondered yet again how long she could go on like that, and how much longer he could abide seeing her that way.

He recoiled as a sinister thought edged its way into his mind.

She had been this way for over four months.

What if it went on for years? Would she want to continue to exist this way, trapped in a netherworld with no way out?

Was she aware of anything at all? Or had her world become dark and empty and silent?

If it went on for years, would she want him to put an end to her existence and free her soul? And how was he to know?

Dammit! Where had that thought come from?

Suddenly afraid he was going to lose her forever, he sat on the edge of the bed. Drawing her gently into his arms, he rocked her back and forth. Kadie. Kadie, please come back to me, sweetheart. Life isn’t worth living without you.

Trapped in the netherworld that refused to release its hold on her, Kadie tried to reply, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak or direct her thoughts to Saintcrow. Helpless to respond to his voice in her mind, she could only pray that Rylan wouldn’t lose hope and let her go.