Saintcrow and Kadie returned.
He paused when he passed the restaurant. Seeing it always reminded him of Shirley.
When she had first gotten sick, Micah had insisted she go see a doctor. Sure, she had been pushing fifty, but hell, these days fifty was still young. In spite of numerous tests, the doctor hadnât been able to diagnose her illness.
Micah had his own ideas about the cause of her rapid decline. He blamed it on the years she had spent nourishing the vampires of Morgan Creek. To his way of thinking, the deaths of her friends could also be blamed on the vampires. It just wasnât natural for humans to be trapped in one place like rats in a cage, or to give blood so often. Of course, they hadnât really âgivenâ their lifeâs blood. It had been taken from them, by force, if necessary.
But that was old news.
A thought took him to the cemetery located not far from Saintcrowâs lair.
The two women who had most influenced his life, save for his sweet mother, were buried here. He stood at Lilithâs grave, remembering the night she had turned him. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the horror of waking as a new vampire, abandoned by his sire, with no idea how to survive in a world that was no longer his.
Had Saintcrow not taken pity on him and taught him how to survive, had Shirley not given him the love and support he so desperately needed, Micah feared he would have turned into nothing more than a killing machine, some mindless monster without a hint of humanity.
Moving to Shirleyâs grave, he knelt to run his hands over the earth that covered her. Murmuring, âRest well, sweetheart,â he headed back to Blair House to check on Holly.
After tomorrow night, Hollyâs life, her view of the world around her, would never be the same again.
* * *
Leticia Braga cursed long and loud as the vampire she was hunting vanished. One minute he had been in a booth with some mortal female; the next he was gone, taking the woman with him.
She was not surprised by the fact that he had disappeared so quickly, or the fact that heâd recognized her as one of the Undead. Both were abilities known to all vampires. What surprised her was that he knew she was hunting him.
How had he known that? And who was he, anyway? What was his connection to Saintcrow? Had Saintcrow turned him?
She shook her head. Whoever the vampire was, he had been recently turned and not by a master vampire.
Saintcrow. Just the thought of him filled her with unspeakable anger. She had spent centuries alone, estranged from her twin brother ever since the night she had turned him against his will. Seeking companionship, she had wandered the world, becoming more and more bitter with every passing year, losing more and more of her humanity.
And then sheâd met Gavin. His love had given her hope for the future; his acceptance of what she was, his willingness to accept the Dark Gift, had taken the sting from the past. She had felt reborn, alive again. She had never been a beauty, but Gavin made her feel feminine, soft. Desirable.
Most astonishing of all, his love had somehow filled the emptiness inside her. Suddenly, she didnât need to feed as often. Hunting no longer thrilled her. Now, it was Gavin who satisfied her craving for blood, for acceptance, for love. Her sire had abandoned her. Her parents were long dead. Her brother would not speak to her. But none of that mattered now. Gavin had become her whole world.
And then, all too soon, he was gone, destroyed by Ryan Saintcrow. Gavinâs death had stripped away the last of her humanity, snuffed out any and all hope for the future, leaving her with nothing but hatred that burned away every other thought, every other emotion, save one: her need to destroy Saintcrow.
And do it she would, if she had to chase him across the world and through all eternity.
Chapter Eight
Holly woke abruptly, the lingering images of her dreams still fresh in
He paused when he passed the restaurant. Seeing it always reminded him of Shirley.
When she had first gotten sick, Micah had insisted she go see a doctor. Sure, she had been pushing fifty, but hell, these days fifty was still young. In spite of numerous tests, the doctor hadnât been able to diagnose her illness.
Micah had his own ideas about the cause of her rapid decline. He blamed it on the years she had spent nourishing the vampires of Morgan Creek. To his way of thinking, the deaths of her friends could also be blamed on the vampires. It just wasnât natural for humans to be trapped in one place like rats in a cage, or to give blood so often. Of course, they hadnât really âgivenâ their lifeâs blood. It had been taken from them, by force, if necessary.
But that was old news.
A thought took him to the cemetery located not far from Saintcrowâs lair.
The two women who had most influenced his life, save for his sweet mother, were buried here. He stood at Lilithâs grave, remembering the night she had turned him. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the horror of waking as a new vampire, abandoned by his sire, with no idea how to survive in a world that was no longer his.
Had Saintcrow not taken pity on him and taught him how to survive, had Shirley not given him the love and support he so desperately needed, Micah feared he would have turned into nothing more than a killing machine, some mindless monster without a hint of humanity.
Moving to Shirleyâs grave, he knelt to run his hands over the earth that covered her. Murmuring, âRest well, sweetheart,â he headed back to Blair House to check on Holly.
After tomorrow night, Hollyâs life, her view of the world around her, would never be the same again.
* * *
Leticia Braga cursed long and loud as the vampire she was hunting vanished. One minute he had been in a booth with some mortal female; the next he was gone, taking the woman with him.
She was not surprised by the fact that he had disappeared so quickly, or the fact that heâd recognized her as one of the Undead. Both were abilities known to all vampires. What surprised her was that he knew she was hunting him.
How had he known that? And who was he, anyway? What was his connection to Saintcrow? Had Saintcrow turned him?
She shook her head. Whoever the vampire was, he had been recently turned and not by a master vampire.
Saintcrow. Just the thought of him filled her with unspeakable anger. She had spent centuries alone, estranged from her twin brother ever since the night she had turned him against his will. Seeking companionship, she had wandered the world, becoming more and more bitter with every passing year, losing more and more of her humanity.
And then sheâd met Gavin. His love had given her hope for the future; his acceptance of what she was, his willingness to accept the Dark Gift, had taken the sting from the past. She had felt reborn, alive again. She had never been a beauty, but Gavin made her feel feminine, soft. Desirable.
Most astonishing of all, his love had somehow filled the emptiness inside her. Suddenly, she didnât need to feed as often. Hunting no longer thrilled her. Now, it was Gavin who satisfied her craving for blood, for acceptance, for love. Her sire had abandoned her. Her parents were long dead. Her brother would not speak to her. But none of that mattered now. Gavin had become her whole world.
And then, all too soon, he was gone, destroyed by Ryan Saintcrow. Gavinâs death had stripped away the last of her humanity, snuffed out any and all hope for the future, leaving her with nothing but hatred that burned away every other thought, every other emotion, save one: her need to destroy Saintcrow.
And do it she would, if she had to chase him across the world and through all eternity.
Chapter Eight
Holly woke abruptly, the lingering images of her dreams still fresh in
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