by Cynthia Eden
Before it was too late. Before she died. “I’ll be there.” There was no choice. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Savannah said, her voice husky. William would understand. He would know that she’d had to go, that she’d had to see Mary.
Oh, God, Mary.
She swallowed, tasting tears and pain. Nothing would stop her from seeing Mary again. Nothing.
WILLIAM FELT HER pain. It beat against him, pounding into his mind.
He tried to reach out, to touch her, but he found only emptiness.
He could hear her voice. Hear her tears.
What was wrong? What had happened?
Savannah. The cry echoed in his mind.
SAVANNAH BARELY remembered the car ride down the mountain. The frantic dash through the airport was but a hazy memory. As she sat on the plane, gazing out of the window at the vast land below, she could only remember Mary. Her dear friend. Her best friend.
Why? Why had Mary been hurt? Had it been just a simple accident? Why had Mary been out so late? What had she been doing?
Something wasn’t right. Savannah could feel it. There was more to the story. More to Mary’s “accident.”
Had Geoffrey gone after Mary? Was he the cause of her injuries? Guilt almost smothered Savannah at the thought. Had she led the killer to her friend’s door?
She prayed that Mary would still be alive. That she would recover. She prayed and she begged, hoping God would hear her desperate calls. Her fingers were locked tightly together. Her shoulders hunched forward. Her temples throbbed in a steady, pounding rhythm. She was terrified.
As the miles rushed by, a fleeting thought whispered through her mind. She wished William were with her.
WILLIAM AWOKE to find himself alone in the bed.
He knew Savannah was gone even before he took his first breath. He could feel her absence. Feel the emptiness of the house.
And he could feel the echoes of her pain.
Something had happened. Something that had forced her to leave the shelter of his home.
His heart clenched. She was out there, in the night. Alone. Geoffrey would be waiting for her. Waiting for his perfect kill.
He tore through the tunnels, reaching the ground level of the house in mere seconds. His entire focus was on Savannah. He had to get to her. He had to find her. Before it was too late.
He went to her room. He knew she wouldn’t be there, but he found himself compelled to climb the narrow flight of stairs and hurry toward the dark room. He had to see for himself. He had to see—
The room was empty. But he could still smell her. The faint scent of lavender clung to the sheets, the pillows.
He didn’t bother to turn on a light. He could see just as well in darkness as he could in light. There was a note on her bed, propped lightly against the pillow. It was short, brief, terrifying.
I’m sorry, William. I have to go back to Seattle. My friend Mary has been in a terrible accident. I have to see her.
Don’t worry about me. I’ll be safe. And I will return as soon as I can. I promise.
She hadn’t signed the note, she hadn’t needed to.
He crumpled the letter in his fist. She wouldn’t be coming back. Not if Geoffrey had his way. He knew that Savannah was walking into a trap. Geoffrey had attacked her friend in order to draw her out into the open. It was a tactic that his brother had used nine hundred years ago. It had worked then, and William was very much afraid that it would work now.
He had to get to Savannah before Geoffrey did.
He sent the balcony doors crashing open with a wave of his hand and ran straight into the night. He leapt high into the air, his body shifting, transforming. He had many dark gifts. And he would use them all to save Savannah.
The man disappeared. In his place, a large, menacing hawk took to the skies.
He would find her. There was no other choice.
Savannah.
SHE HATED hospitals. Hated the scents, the sounds, and the overwhelming whiteness of the rooms. Hospitals were cold, stark, places of death and despair. She’d spent too many years of her life inside the icy walls of a hospital. She’d hoped to never step foot past the sliding glass doors again.
She couldn’t believe that Mary was here. That she might be dying. Not Mary. She was too strong. Too good.
Her friend was in the intensive care unit. Her body was tied to a dozen different tubes and machines. Constant beeps emitted from the machinery. Visitors weren’t supposed to be in the room with her. But Savannah had known the nurse on duty from her many visits to Mercy’s Heart. Patty O’Connor was a sweet, matronly woman in her late fifties who had taken good care of Savannah during her long hospital stays. She and Patty had become friends during those many hours. Patty had agreed to let Savannah sneak back and visit with Mary, but she’d told her that she could only stay for a few moments.
Tears clouded her eyes as she stared down at her friend. Mary’s face was covered in bruises and cuts. Both of her legs were broken. Patty had said that her friend had also suffered a concussion, two broken ribs, and a crushed pelvis. Her left lung had been punctured. By the time the paramedics got to Mary, her lung had already begun to fill with fluid.
Mary had lost a lot of blood. Too much. The doctors had frantically pumped the precious liquid back into her body. It was truly a miracle that she was still alive. Unfortunately, the doctors weren’t sure just how much longer she would be able to hold on.
Savannah cradled Mary’s hand, her fingers rubbing lightly over its back. “Mary, it’s Savannah.” She swallowed, trying to clear the lump from her throat. “Can you hear me?”
There was no response. The machines continued to beep. The liquids continued to feed into Mary’s body.
“Please, Mary. You’ve got to fight. You can’t leave yet. You just can’t.” But as she gazed at Mary’s pale, still face, she was desperately afraid that Mary would, indeed, leave her soon.
Her fingers tightened around Mary’s. “How many times did you hold my hand when I was in a hospital bed? How many times did you tell me that I couldn’t give up? Do you remember that, Mary? You and Mark. You both kept telling me not to give up. You told me to fight.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Well, now I’m telling you. You’ve got to fight, Mary. You have to live!”
Did Mary’s lashes flicker faintly? Savannah continued talking, her voice feverish with intensity. “You can hear me, can’t you, Mary? I know you can. Stay with me, Mary. Stay with me! I know you’re tired and that you hurt, and all you want to do is to slip away and let the pain stop. I know, because I’ve been there. I just wanted to close my eyes and make it all stop. But I didn’t. I kept fighting. I wanted to live. And you want to live, too. I know you do. You want to get married. Have kids. Cute little kids that you can teach to hack computers. You want to go to Spain. You want to run with the bulls. You want to do so much. But if you don’t fight, you won’t be able to do anything.”
She felt Mary’s fingers jerk against her.
Savannah leaned forward, hope lighting her face. “Mary?”
And then she saw them. Two tiny holes on the left side of Mary’s throat. Barely visible, they would have gone unnoticed by most people.
But Savannah had similar marks on her own neck. She knew what those marks meant, what they were—
A wave of nausea rolled through her. “Dear God,” she whispered, her face full of horror. It hadn’t been an accident. There was no way it could have been. Not with those marks. Geoffrey had done this; he had attacked Mary.
Mary’s lashes lifted. She moaned, the sound harsh and full of fear.
“It’s all right, Mary. I’m here.” Savannah tried to soothe her.
Mary began to thrash in the bed, her arms lifted, trying to jerk free of the restraints that held her.
Her IV flew across the room. Blood poured down her arm.
“No! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Savannah frantically pressed the call button.
Mary’s lips trembled. She tried to speak, but a groan emerged from her lips.
Patty ran into the room. Her eyes widened as she hurried to the bed, pulling Mary’s arms down and securing them with Velcro straps. Mary struggled against the confinement, her eyes huge and tear-filled. Another long groan slipped past her lips.
“You’ve got to leave,” Patty said while pushing the call button and demanding that the doctor be summoned.
Mary began moaning. Her head thrashed.
“Calm down,” Patty told her. “You’re safe. You were in an accident, but we’re taking care of you now. Everything is going to be all right, Ms. Todd.” She began to insert another intravenous needle into the back of Mary’s hand.
Savannah took a step back from the bed.
The doctor, an older man with steel gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses, appeared at the door. He took a quick look, instantly assessing the situation.
“Morphine, now,” he ordered.
A nurse hurried in from behind him, a long needle in her hand.
“D-d-d-d—” Mary’s teeth clenched and frustration flashed across her face.
“You need to leave,” the doctor told Savannah.
The machines beeped, faster, louder.
Mary’s pain filled gaze locked on Savannah. “D-d-d-dev—”
“Now, Miss!” The doctor’s tone was sharp.
A nurse grabbed Savannah’s arm.
“I’ll be back,” she promised Mary. She hated to leave her. She wanted to stay, to make certain that Mary was all right.
“You’ve got to come with me,” the nurse insisted.
“D-d-devil!” Mary screamed, her face twisted in fear. “The d-d-devil s-s-said he was c-c-coming for y-you!”
Everyone froze.
“What?” Savannah’s voice was a whisper of sound.
“H-he’s c-c-coming. B-be r-ready.” Mary’s eyes snapped shut and her body fell back, limp, against the bedcovers.
Patty crossed herself.
“Mary?” Savannah stepped forward, breaking free of the nurse’s hold. “Mary!”
The machines beeped, slow and steady, in the quiet room.
The doctor leaned over the bed, checking Mary carefully.
“Is she going to make it?” Savannah asked, fear nearly choking her.
The doctor straightened slowly. “I don’t know.”
Savannah pressed her lips together to control their trembling.
“What was she talking about?” Patty whispered, taking a quick step back from the bed. “The devil—”
The doctor frowned at her. “She was delirious. You know how patients get—”
No, Mary hadn’t been delirious. The good doctor was very, very wrong. The devil had attacked Mary, and now, he was planning to come after Savannah.
Savannah stared at Mary’s still body. Poor Mary. What she must have gone through! “Is she going to make it?” she asked again.
The doctor ran a tired hand over his face. “Maybe.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know. It’s hard to tell for certain in a case like this, and I don’t want to give you false hope.” He sighed. “She’s getting the best care. We’ll do everything in our power to see that she pulls through.”
Savannah nodded. She stared down at her friend’s pale face.
“You have to leave, Miss. She’s got to rest.”
Savannah leaned forward and kissed Mary’s cheek. “Fight, Mary. Fight for me.” Fight the devil who stalks you.
She stepped back, gazing at her friend’s wan face for a moment more. Then she turned, and walked slowly out of the room.
As she walked down the long hospital corridor, she could hear other patients and nurses talking. She could hear the faint murmur of their voices. The people passed by her in a blur. She stared down at the shining white floor, moving through the hospital completely by memory.
Mary’s words echoed in her mind. Savannah knew the devil that her friend spoke of was Geoffrey. He was coming after her. And she was afraid that she wouldn’t be strong enough to defeat him.
Her steps were slow, wooden. Her head pounded. She ignored the pain, ignored the chorus of voices and machines. She kept walking. Slowly, steadily.
As she rode the elevator down to the first floor, she stared at her reflection in the glass, wondering at the fragile looking woman before her. Her eyes were sunken, glassy. Her skin chalk white. She lifted a hand, driven by some strange impulse to touch her image, to comfort the sad woman who stood before her.
The elevator chimed and the door opened. She forgot the sad woman who’d stood before her, and she walked toward the small chapel. She’d always gone to the chapel when she needed strength. When she needed hope.
She pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside. The chapel was empty. Elaborate gold crosses were hung on all the walls, and several cloth covered pews were arranged in the middle of the room.
She walked toward the altar, staring with wide eyes at the image of Jesus at his crucifixion. She fell to her knees, closing her eyes. “Please, God,” she begged. “Help Mary. Give her strength.”
A cold wind blew through the chapel. The crosses trembled.
Savannah’s eyes lifted. A soft chuckle sounded from behind her, and she stopped breathing.
“Foolish woman,” he said, his voice a wicked drawl. “Even your God can’t help you.”
She recognized his voice. The voice that haunted her dreams, her nightmares.
She stood on legs that trembled and took a deep breath. She wouldn’t let him see her fear. She wouldn’t. She turned around slowly, gathering her strength, her courage.
The chapel’s door was open, and he stood on the threshold of this holy place, hidden in shadows. She couldn’t see his face. Just the outline of his body. Tall, strong. Deadly.
“Stay away from me,” she ordered, lifting her chin.
He laughed again. “Foolish human. What makes you think that you’re the one I want?”
What was he talking about? Of course she was the one he wanted. Who else would he want? Oh, God, Mary!
“I know where she is,” he whispered. “Dear Mary. Such a . . . sweet woman.”
No, no—she couldn’t let him get to Mary. Her gaze flew around the chapel. She needed a weapon, something—
“She tasted so sweet. So pure. I think I might just have to have another taste . . .”
She grabbed one of the heavy wooden crosses from the wall. “Stay away from her!” Her fingers clenched around the cross and she took a step forward.
“She’s just above us, isn’t she? Perhaps I’ll go upstairs and see her again. Just for old time’s sake.”
“I said stay away from her!” Savannah snarled, straining to see him through the shadows.
“Make me,” he invited, his voice a purr.
Savanna lunged, swinging the cross in front of her.
In a flash, he vanished, leaving the echo of his foul laughter to fill the chapel.
Chapter Eleven
When I look into his eyes, I see only evil.
—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
December 13, 1068
SHE’D WARNED THE hospital personnel. She’d told them that Mary’s life was in danger, that she needed constant supervision. They’d called in two extra guards, and they promised Savannah that Mary would be safe.
She hadn’t told them that the man who was after Mary wasn’t exactly human. They wouldn’t have believed her if she’d said a vampire wanted to kill her friend.
So, she’d lied. She’d told them that Mary’s ex-boyfriend was at
the hospital and that he’d confessed to attacking her. After that, it had been easy to arrange for Mary’s protection.
Once she was certain that Mary was safe, Savannah had searched the upper levels of the hospital. She didn’t think that Geoffrey had left, that he’d just given up and decided to leave. No, she knew he was still there, waiting on her. Waiting for her.
She couldn’t find him. She looked, in every room and in every closet. She hated the idea that he was there, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. To possibly kill Mary.
She had to draw him out. Draw him away from the hospital. Mary needed time to recover. She wouldn’t be able to survive another attack from him. She had to lead him away. She had to protect Mary.
She pushed open the door to the stairwell. Only two flights stood between her and the parking garage. A red overhead light illuminated the small area. She hurried down the steps, wanting to get away as fast she could. She absently rubbed her temple. Her head had been pounding steadily from the moment she’d slipped into the hospital. She wished she hadn’t left her pills at William’s.
She walked down three steps, and the world suddenly seemed to swirl before her. She grabbed the iron railing, holding on tightly. She saw a brief flash, and then darkness surrounded her.
She closed her eyes and heard the sound of her pounding heart. Had he found her? Was he doing this to her?
She counted to ten and opened her eyes. The darkness was gone. She once again saw the red glow of the light and the concrete stairs.
She began walking down the stairs, not taking her arm off the railing. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Luckily, she only had to go down one more flight to get to the garage.
She’d take her jeep and drive as far and as fast as she could. She knew he would follow her. And Mary would be safe.
The concrete steps ended in front of a red door. She shoved the door open, hurrying into the garage.
She could see her jeep sitting on the far side, right under the security camera. The long, florescent lights flickered faintly overhead, casting shadows on the pavement.