“Forget it. Do you know where Lazarus went?”
“No, we lost them in the sewers. They had an escape plan.”
“You mean you lost them all?”
“Yes. All the originals that survived escaped.”
I looked around. “I think our job here is done. Rick, you’ll want to send a cleanup crew in here, there’s an awful lot of bodies. And if any of them are alive and bitten, stake them.”
“Roger that. Where are you two off to?”
“I have someplace I need to go.”
Sydney reached out and took my hand, her eyes still red, but the softness I was used to was returning to her face.
“We have someplace we need to go.”
FORTY-TWO
Outside Kaba, Hungary
Zander was silent. Still. There hadn’t been a lot of talking on our trip here. Rick had agreed to get the Beast back to New York for us, which meant that very night, or more accurately, early morning, we had checked into a hotel, cleaned ourselves up, then caught a series of flights that eventually led us to Budapest, Hungary. Now we sat in our rental car, parked in front of a small farm house.
And still nothing was said.
And to be honest, I was kind of thankful for that. The kiss was spectacular, fireworks awesome, Fourth of July good, but the aftermath had been awkward. I think Zander felt guilty for betraying his wife that he now thought was alive, and I felt a bit jealous and cheated that finally my dream had come true, and she might still be around to ruin it for me.
Selfish? Yeah. But still, it’s how I felt. I knew it was wrong, and I’d get over it. After all, I cared about Zander, and I wanted what was best for him, and if his wife was indeed alive, then that would be what was best.
Wouldn’t it?
But who was she now? What kind of person was she? Had she stayed good like Zander? Or had she gone to the dark side, the power of the vampire changing her into a megalomaniac like so many of the others.
Or was she dead, staked by some panicked mob hundreds of years ago?
Or was she still in the ground, dead but not dead, trapped for almost three hundred years, waiting for that first breath of air to bring her back to life! Oh my God, that would be horrible. Better to stake her right away; she would have to be insane after an ordeal like that.
Or maybe she lived here, working this very farm, for three hundred years?
Argh! The speculation was driving me nuts. Why were we sitting here?
“Here we go.”
Finally, it speaks!
The front door opened and a man exited, followed by his wife and two young children. They all climbed into a beat-up Renault, drove down the laneway, and out onto the road, passing right by us.
I resisted the urge to duck.
Zander turned off the car, looking in his rearview mirror. After a few moments he opened his door. “Let’s go.”
I followed, and waited while he retrieved a couple of shovels from the trunk. We strode in silence down the laneway, past the house, and into what I guess would be their backyard, but actually turned into farmland. He marched right up to a massive old tree that looked like it had been there for centuries.
Suddenly Zander stopped, and stabbed the ground with his shovel, pushing the blade into the ground with his foot.
And began to dig.
I joined him, and we dug in silence for about ten minutes when suddenly my shovel hit something solid.
Zander jumped in the hole and began to dig furiously where I had just been, and within minutes had uncovered most of what appeared to be a wooden chest.
A chest with the top still intact.
I grabbed Zander by the arm.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
He looked up at me, his face streaked in tears. “I have to know.”
“And what if she’s, you know, still alive, and still in there?”
“We have blood.”
“But she’ll have gone mad.”
He looked away. “But—”
“Zee, think about it.”
He shook his head. “No!” He rose, and grabbed the lid with both hands, flipping it up, exposing the interior.
And we both gasped.
It was empty.
Zander fell to his knees, sobs racking his body, repeating “I’m sorry!” over and over. I climbed in the hole and knelt beside him, placing my arm across his shoulders. I looked inside the chest, and found what appeared to be animal bones, perhaps rats, that must have gnawed their way inside the chest. She had apparently had enough strength to feed on them, which in turn fortified her enough to break out.
I examined the lid. It had scratch marks on it from where she had tried to get out, but instead it looked like she had broken through the side, and dug her way to the surface.
“She escaped at some point. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, she obviously was thinking straight enough to break out of the casket, then dig her way to the surface. That means she hadn’t gone completely crazy.”
Zander shook his head. “We don’t know that. She might have escaped on instinct.”
I stood up and pulled him to his feet.
“Come on, let’s get out of here before the family comes back.”
He nodded, and in a single bound leapt from the hole. Reaching down, he grabbed my hands and pulled me out. We stood for a moment staring into what was supposed to have been the final resting place of his beloved wife.
“I have to find her. I have to find out what happened to her.”
I took his arm and squeezed, laying my head against his shoulder. I closed my eyes, trying to block the burning tears threatening to pour out as my heart broke with the implications.
“We’ll find her together.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Turned began almost as a lark. I wrote the opening scene on a whim while bored one day, and showed it to several people, who immediately wanted to read more. After finishing Broken Dove, I decided to tackle this project, and soon found the story almost writing itself. I enjoyed writing it immensely, as I hope you enjoyed reading it.
And yes, there will be a sequel, as I too can’t wait to find out what happens next. Will Zander find his long lost beloved? If he does, what kind of person will she be? Will she be good, or evil? And what about poor Sydney, whose dream finally came true, only to have it dashed against the rocks of a centuries long love. Will she wait for Zander, or move on? Keep an eye on my website for news of Book #2.
Many of the usual suspects were of great help during the writing of this book. My wife of course, and my daughter, who this time played a more active role by telling me when something I had a teenage character saying sounded ridiculous or not. I didn’t run all the dialogue past this über-cool teen, so any dorkisms are mine alone. But it’s monkey. My parents of course helped, along with Brent Richards. As well, a special thanks to my friends who patiently heard me debate whether or not writing a vampire novel was wise.
And as usual, I thank you the reader for making this author’s dreams come true. You have my humble thanks.
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USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has written over twenty international bestselle
rs including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series, the first installment of which, The Protocol, has been on the bestsellers list since its release, including a three month run at number one. In addition to the other novels from this series including The Templar's Relic, a USA Today bestseller and #1 overall bestseller on Barnes & Noble, he writes the bestselling Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers, the Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers, and the Detective Shakespeare Mysteries. Robert lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.
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Turned (Zander Vargar Vampire Detective, Book #1) Page 22