Adrian Phoenix - In the Blood

“No. She’s not with him.” Dante refused to voice the other possibility—she was with him, but her heart no longer beat.

“Shit,” Heather whispered.

The passenger window slid down with a low hum. A thin coil of cigarette smoke curled out, disappearing in the drizzle. “Put the gun down, Heather,” Lyons called.

“Where’s Annie?” Dante asked as Heather bent and placed her gun on the gravel at the driveway’s edge.

“Somewhere.” Amusement buoyed Lyons’s voice, amusement Dante wanted to prick full of holes.

Heather straightened. “How do we know Annie’s all right?” she asked.

“You’ll just have to take my word for it. That’s the only option available.”

No, it ain’t .

Closing his eyes, Dante pushed the pain throbbing in his head below, and focused his thoughts. He reached for Lyons’s mind. And bounced against a steel-smooth shield. Dante’s eyes flew open. Squiggles of light edged his vision. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“You okay?” Heather’s hand grasped his arm.

“I was wondering when you’d try that,” Lyons said.

“He’s a telepath,” Dante said. Blood hot trickled from his nose. He wiped at it with the back of his hand. “I can’t get past his shields. Not without a fight.”

“Shit.” Heather released his arm. “How do we get Annie back?” she called. “What do you want?”

“I want Dante to listen to a little something on my iPod,” Lyons said.

“I thought you wanted him to heal your sister,” Heather said.

“I do,” Lyons agreed. “But I also want to see how well he follows instructions.”

“Fuck you,” Dante said. “Throw me the damned iPod already.”

“I’ll send it to you,” Lyons replied.

As Dante mulled over that comment— Send? As in e-mail? As in fucking FedEx ?—he felt a surge of power, electric and strong, and a small shape floated out of the truck’s passenger window. An iPod sailed up the driveway on a rippling wave of energy.

Dante stared as the iPod stopped in front of him at chest level, hovering in the air on tiny pulsations of energy. He looked at Lyons. Shadows and light crosshatched the mortal’s face. Not only a telepath, but telekinetic. That gift was rare even among nightkind from what Dante knew. Natural or more of his dad’s tampering?

Dante closed his fingers around the iPod and snatched it from the air. The moment he did, Heather’s gun floated up from the foot of the drive like a wind-caught leaf. It fluttered over to the truck and in through the open window.

“He’s not going to listen to that until we have Annie back!” Heather yelled.

“I really don’t want to hurt your sister, so don’t force me,” Lyons said. “Dante has ten seconds to comply, then I’m driving away.”

Truth and mingled lies wove the fabric of Lyons’s words. Dante knew he’d hurt Annie with little hesitation.

“Don’t listen to the iPod. I think he’s trying to trigger you.” Heather looked at Dante, her eyes nearly black with emotion. “There’s got to be another—”

“Move away from me, chérie ,” Dante whispered. “Get outta reach.”

Jaw tight, eyes glistening, Heather backed away from him.

Dante worked the earbuds into his ears, then, heart hammering against his ribs, he touched the play arrow. A smooth voice burrowed into his ears.

“S, time to awaken, my Sleeping Beauty. You have work to do.”

A familiar voice. One Dante still couldn’t name. Pain ripped through his mind, rising up from below and shredding his thoughts, his sense of self. Voices, whispering, screaming, and everything in between, cycloned up from the shattered depths. Droning wasps winged up in a dark and furious cloud, needling venom into his heart.

Pain shoved him below.

And Dante tumbled into limitless depths.

The unnamed voice continued to speak.

Seattle, WA

March 24

DANTE DROPPED TO HIS knees on the gravel and doubled over, his hand fisting around the iPod. His rain-damp hair swung forward, hiding his face.

Pulse thundering in her ears, Heather stepped toward him. He hissed, the low sound a warning as primal as a rattlesnake’s. She froze.

“Stay away from him,” Lyons called from the truck.

The hiss faded. Dante swayed on his knees. Heather wanted to yank the headphones from his ears, but had a feeling it was too late. And, for all she knew, interrupting the process might do him more harm than good.

A car door thunked, then Heather heard footsteps approaching from the street. Her hands knotted into fists when Lyons stopped beside her in a cloud of cigarette smoke and Drakkar Noir.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, her voice flat.

“When he stands up again, throw him your car keys.”

“What?” Heather looked at Lyons. He met her gaze, his own curious.

“I think I know where my father’s sending him,” Lyons said. “Give Dante the keys and stay out of his way. We’ll follow.”

“He’s doing this for Annie, so tell me where she is.”

“After,” Alex said, nodding at Dante. “Ah,” he breathed.

Dante pulled the earbuds free and dropped the iPod in the gravel. He pushed his hair back from his face with both hands, then rose to his feet. Rain dewed his hair, glistened in beads on his leather pants and on the shoulders of his hoodie, on the lenses of his sunglasses.

He swiveled around, a movement so quick she’d nearly missed it. He watched her from behind his shades, his pale face still and, suddenly, unknown to her. Blood trickled from his nose. Fear hollowed Heather out.

She was looking at S, not Dante.

“Give him the keys,” Lyons murmured, touching her arm.

Heather pulled the keys from her purse and tossed them. Dante snatched the jingling keys in midair. Without a word, he walked to the Trans Am, slid inside, and started up the engine. He backed the car out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires, then drove away, exhaust pluming in the chilly, moist air.

Heather watched, eyes burning. Her promises twisted around her heart.

I will find you. I won’t give up .

“Aren’t we following?” she asked, looking at Lyons.

A smile curved his lips, a wide, dark smile. “Amen, sister, that we are,” he said. “But first, I want you to put your hands on the hood of the truck and assume the position. Need to search you.”

Fury blazed through Heather’s veins. “Payback time, huh?”

Lyons laughed. “Absolutely. Give me your purse and take off your coat.”

Knowing she had promises to keep to Annie and Dante both and no time to waste, Heather gave Lyons her purse. He slung the strap over his shoulder and waited as she unbelted her trench and shrugged out of it. She threw it at him, then marched over to the Dodge Ram, placed her hands on the rain-slick hood and spread her feet apart.

“Keep any and all smart-ass comments to yourself,” Lyons said as he patted her down, his hands sliding under her arms and down her sides, across her breasts.

When his hands dropped down to her legs, Heather tensed, expecting him to take full advantage of the situation, but his pat-down remained quick and professional.

“Turn around.”