Distressed doesn’t begin to cover it. When I don’t answer, Sophie turns to look at me. “We can’t fight our destiny, Anna. We shouldn’t try.”
She’s smiling softly, I see it in the darkness. It strikes me that if Williams had said that to me —shit, he has a million times—my back would be up, my defenses at the ready. Sophie, however, brings forth a startling burst of clarity.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of not knowing what it means to be the chosen.”
She laughs. “That’s easy enough to find out. Ask Williams.”
I shake my head. “He’d be only too happy to tell me. But it would be his version. I don ’t trust him. He’s too far removed from—” I struggle to find the right word.
“Humanity?”
“Yes. From humanity. He’s forgotten what it means to be human. I can’t let that happen to me.”
We’ve reached the end of the boardwalk. The dirt road out of Beso de la Muerte stretches before us like a faint silver ribbon. I can smell a wolf prowling in the darkness, hear the rapid heartbeat of a rabbit, see the winding path left by a snake as it skims the desert floor.
The animal side of my nature recognizes and is recognized by the life teeming just out of sight.
In the dark, my voice is an echo, haunted, wistful. “I didn’t ask to become vampire. It’s a battle every day. I’m determined to take care of my family, to take care of the people I love. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do more.”
Sophie sighs and touches my arm. “You are much stronger than you think, Anna. You need to let go, trust your instincts instead of fighting them.”
She shivers suddenly.
She’s exhausted. Deveraux’s voice chides me. We should go back.
We turn and head back toward the bar. Golden shafts of light spill from the windows and doors. Laughter and the sound of music drift on the wind. The smells now are of grilling meat, the perfume of women, the musk of men and vampire.
Sophie is quiet. Just as we reach the door, she says, “I’d like to take care of the vampires my sister hurt.”
The offer is as unanticipated as it is surprising. “They’re being cared for.”
“They’re different, right? They’re not the same as you and Deveraux.”
“How did you know that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Deveraux picked up on something when you told us about them. I want to take them back to Denver.”
I glance at my watch. Midnight. “It’s too late to go to the safe house. Stay with me tonight and I’ll take you in the morning.”
She brushes a lock of hair out of her face and gazes into the bar. “I think I’d rather stay here,” she says. “Enjoy the desert while I have a chance. Think Culebra can put me up?”
I laugh. “After what you did for him this afternoon? He’d not only put you up, he’d give you his firstborn.”
But before we go inside, I put a hand on Sophie’s arm. “I will be honest with you, Sophie. Williams isn’t the only one concerned about Burke. I’m not sure I can rest until what we started today is finished. As long as Burke has breath in her body, she is a threat.”
THE PARTY IS STILL GOING STRONG WHEN WE step inside. Sophie leaves me to rejoin the group, my last words casting a pall that dims the spark of friendship that had been building between us. I’m sorry about that; I have few friends and I like Sophie. I’m not sorry for being honest, though. I don’t just need for Burke to be out of commission, I need for Burke to be dead.
Weariness turns my thoughts to home and bed. I realize when we go back inside that I have no way to get home. Williams left with the car. Culebra arranges for one of his customers to drive Frey and me. She’s a human, a host, and luckily for us, keeps up a steady stream of chatter that requires Frey and I to do nothing more than nod and grunt.
Fatigue settles on my shoulders like a coat of chain mail. I can ’t believe all that’s happened in twenty-four hours. The fire and losing Ortiz. Tracking and losing Jason Shelton. Going after Sophie. The ritual to save Culebra.
I wonder where Williams went when he disappeared. Did he go home? Did he go back to the park to set his witches on Burke? Try another locator spell? If she’s as weak as Sophie implies, she may be easier to find.
What happens if he does? First thing tomorrow, I’ll call and find out.
Frey gets dropped off first. He grabs the tote bag from the backseat and climbs out, a little more slowly than he climbed in. I realize if I’m feeling this tired, he must be exhausted. Look what he’s been through.
I step out with him and touch his cheek in parting.
“Thanks. Again.”
He smiles a weary but wolfish grin and places his fingers over mine. “Let’s not make this a habit.”
“I hope you told Culebra that.”
“Believe me, I did.”
He punches his access code into the security panel on the gate and steps through. “I’m going to sleep for a week,” he calls over his shoulder, lifting a hand in a halfhearted wave as he moves down the walk.
I get back into the car. Our driver, young, enthusiastic, bubbling with curiosity about Frey and me, launches into a dozen questions about what happened tonight in that back room. She says rumors started flying as soon as Culebra made his entrance with the three of us trailing behind. Was it true he had been kidnapped by a witch? That he had been held in an astral plane and that we transported ourselves by way of a supersonic spaceship to rescue him? That we were now part of a paranormal superhero squad that will be called upon to break demonic spells all over the world?
Wow.
The truth dulls by comparison.
I let her prattle on, neither confirming nor denying, all the time it takes us to get back to the airport and my car. When she drops me off, she rolls down the window.
“I could be a great help to you,” she says, thrusting a card at me. “I’ll do anything.” She pushes her hair away from her neck. “Anything.”
At that moment, another young face flashes in my head: a girl in a seedy apartment being seduced by that asshole Jason. I turn angry eyes on her innocent face. “Go home,” I snarl. “Before you get what you’re asking for.”
I SLEEP FOR TWELVE HOURS. IT’S ALMOST ONE IN THE afternoon when I’m finally able to pry open my eyes long enough to look at the clock. My first thought, how good a cup of coffee is going to taste, is chased out of my head by another.
Shit.
I sit straight up in bed and throw off the covers. I was supposed to take Sophie to the safe house this morning.
I grab up my cell and phone Culebra.
It’s good to hear his brusque “Yes” when he picks up.
He isn’t a fan of technology. If he’s barking a curt greeting when interrupted by the cell phone, it’s a good sign he’s back to normal.
“Feeling better, are we?”
“Anna?” His voice softens. “Sorry, I should have checked the ID.”
“I take it you’re feeling well?”
“Remarkably well. It’s amazing how rejuvenating three days in a coma can be.”
I flash on Frey. Not so good for the person intercepting all that bad mojo.
Culebra instantly realizes the implication of his last statement. “That didn’t come out right. How is Frey?”
“Haven’t spoken with him since last night. He planned to sleep for a week. I thought I’d wait at least a day to call him.”
“I’ll do the same.”
There’s a pause until my as-yet-decaffeinated brain clicks into gear with the reason I called. “Is Sophie there? I was supposed to take her to the safe house this morning. Obviously I overslept.”
“No problem. Williams came by this morning. He took her.”
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