Patricia Briggs - Blood Bound

Ben's misery smelled sour, almost like an illness.

"I'm fine," I told her. "Would you leave us for just a few minutes?"

"Sure thing. I was in the middle of a show anyway." She gave me a quick grin. "I'm watching An American Werewolf in London."

I waited until she was gone and then whispered, so none of the other werewolves I could smell in the house would overhear. "I found Andre," I told him. I wasn't certain how far he'd sunk into the wolf, but at the mention of the vampire's name, he came to his feet, growling.

"No, you can't come with me," I told him. "If Marsilia thinks one of the werewolves is involved in Andre's death, there will be retaliation. I came here… I guess because I'm afraid. I don't know how I can kill Andre while he sleeps and still be me afterwards."

Ben took two slow steps toward me. I reached up and touched the cage with the tips of my fingers. "It doesn't matter. It has to be done and I'm the best one to do it."

Abruptly impatient with myself, I stood up. "Don't let them win, Ben. Don't let them destroy you, too."

He whined, but I didn't stay to talk anymore. I had a vampire to kill.

The weatherman had been predicting a break in the weather for three days, and when I left Adam's house the dark clouds that had been moving in all day had thickened impressively. Hot wind snatched my hair and whipped it across my face.

When I got in my car, I was careful to hold onto the door so the wind couldn't fling it into the shiny new Toyota I'd parked next to.

It still hadn't started to rain when I drove the Rabbit onto the gravel drive that stopped at Andre's house, parking in front of the motor home- sized, garage door side of the pole barn. There were neighboring houses, but they were closer to the highway than Andre's house and the pole barn, along with strategically planted foliage, protected his privacy.

Anyone passing by would be able to see my car, but I wasn't really worried about the neighbors. I'd destroy Andre's body, and the vampires would never allow the human police to find anyone else's remains-including mine.

The grass was knee high and crunched as I walked across it. No one had watered the lawn for a month or more. There were flowers planted around the edge of the house, long dead. I suppose Andre didn't care about how nice his place looked by daylight.

I shouldered my backpack and walked around the pole barn to knock on the door. No one answered and the door was locked tight. I walked around the house and found a patio door on the other side. It was locked, too, but suitable application of a paving stone solved that nicely.

No one came to investigate the sound of breaking glass.

The dining room I walked into was spotlessly clean and reeked of Pine-Sol, the smell making me sneeze as well as disguising any other scent that might be present.

Like the house, the room was small but pretty. The floor was oak, antiqued with a white wash that made the room feel bigger than it was. On one side of the room was a brick fireplace. Family photographs covered most of the surface of the mantelpiece. Curious, I looked at them. Children and grandchildren, I thought, and none of them related to Andre. How long would it be before one of them realized they hadn't heard from their grandparents for too long? How long had he been here to leave so many ghosts?

Maybe the owners of the house were off touring the countryside in the motor home that the pole barn had been built to house. I hoped so.

I started to turn away and something knocked one of the photos off the mantle. Glass shattered on the floor and a chill breeze touched my face.

I left the dining room and walked into the kitchen, which was surprisingly big for the size of the house. Someone had painted the wooden cabinets white, then toll-painted flowers and vines all over. The window over the sink was covered with dark green garbage sacks sealed with duct tape so no light would get through.

There were no vampires in the living room either, though it wasn't as clean as the dining room and kitchen had been. Someone had left a dirty glass on an end table-and there were dark stains on the beige carpet. Blood, I thought, but the Pine-Sol was still crippling my nose.

The bathroom door was open, but the two doors next to it were not. I didn't think Andre was behind either of them, because someone had put shiny new bolts on the outside to keep whoever was inside prisoner.

I opened the first door gingerly and had to take a quick step back, even with my deadened nose, because of the strong smell of human waste.

The man was curled up on a pile of filthy sleeping bags. He curled up tighter when I opened the door and whimpered, muttering, "They're coming for me, Lord. Don't let them. Don't let them."

" Shh," I said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The smell was appalling, but it would have had to be a lot stronger to keep me out. He cried when I touched his shoulder.

"Come on," I told him. "Let's get you out of here."

He rolled onto his back and grabbed my head in both hands.

"Vampire." Eyes wild, he shook me slowly. "Vampire."

"I know. But it's daylight now. Come outside with me where he can't get you."

He seemed to understand that part and helped me get him to his feet. I pulled his arm over my shoulder and we did a drunken dance out to the living room. I unlocked the door and took him out.

The skies were darker, making it look hours later in the day than it really was. I sat him down on the picnic table with orders to stay there, but I wasn't certain he'd heard me because he was muttering about the dark man. It didn't matter. He wasn't in any shape to get very far.

I left the living room door open and hurried back to the second room. This time the occupant was an older woman. Bite marks trailed up both arms. If the puncture wounds hadn't been in pairs she would have looked like a junkie. She was more alert than the man had been. She didn't smell as bad, and, though she didn't make any more sense than he had, she helped me get her out of the room. I had a harder time getting her to let go of me once I had her at the picnic table.

"Run," she said. "Run."

"I'm going to take care of him." I told her. "It's all right."

"No," she said, though she let me go. "No."

The house protected them from the worst of the wind, and it still hadn't started raining, though I heard the crack of thunder. If it didn't rain soon we'd have some grass fires out of this storm.

The mundane worry steadied me as I went back into the house to hunt for Andre. I left the bedrooms for last. Partially because I was in no hurry to go back into either, but also because I was pretty sure that Andre had to be on the outside of the rooms in order to lock them.

There were no secret passages I could see in the bathroom, and the closet next to it was full of furnace and water heater: there was no room for vampire. I walked back out to the living room and heard another crash from the dining room.

I got there just as the last framed photo fell onto the floor, just in front of a small throw rug. Something shoved me between my shoulder blades and I took another step forward.

"Under the rug?" I said. "How unoriginal." Sarcasm, I've found, makes terror more bearable. I hoped that Andre would be helpless in the daytime even if Wulfe had not been. Andre was the same age as Stefan, and Stefan told me he died during the day.

I moved the rug and there was a trapdoor, complete with an inset iron ring pull. I took out my flashlight before opening the trapdoor.

Here there was nothing so sophisticated as Wulfe's circular stairway. A free standing wooden ladder stood directly beneath the opening. I ducked my head into the hole, hoping the ghost who shoved me once wouldn't do it while I was hanging my head down.