It shouldn’t bother him. He told himself the only reason it did was because he sensed the man posed a threat to her. He sensed it in that deep, hidden part of him that had kept him alive for the past twenty years. And if she didn’t wake up, she was going to be a sitting duck.
The visitor center was a single-story brick rectangle with a soft-drink machine in front of it and rest rooms at the rear. It sat at the back side of a wide strip of pavement. Shaggy grass grew on all sides. There wasn’t much else.
“Now, remember, we’re breaking Fieldner’s curfew in express violation of his orders,” Lou said. “And we’re in plain sight. We should make this fast and get out of here.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. Everyone but Jason. He was looking around them as if certain a bogeyman was going to jump out of the shadows and grab him at any moment.
They checked the parking lot first, spreading out, their flashlights sweeping the blacktop, finding nothing. At first. Then Max knelt, picked something up.
“What have you got?” Lou asked.
“It’s a receipt from an ATM.” She looked up at him, then shifted her gaze to Jason. “Albany, New York. Your hometown, Jay. Dated two days ago.”
Jason held out his hand. “Let me see that.”
As he scanned the tiny slip of paper, Stormy said, “The last four digits of the account number should be on there. Do you know if they match hers?”
Jay closed his eyes. “I haven’t got it memorized.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Lou said. “After all, how many people from Albany do you figure have been here in the last two days?”
“Not very damn many,” Max said. “So we know she was here.”
Jason nodded. “But her car’s not here. She must have gone on—”
“Anyone could have moved the car. I say it’s time we take a look around those woods.” Max put her hand on Jason’s arm. “Just as a precaution. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They walked behind the visitor center. The place looked neat, until they traipsed along what looked like a well-worn path that wound from the rear of the building into the woods behind it. There things got messy.
Soft-drink cans, fast-food and candy-bar wrappers, and crumpled cellophane potato chip bags littered the ground. Decomposing cigarette butts, discarded paper towels and tissues…
“Jesus, people are slobs,” Lou muttered.
Max shot Lou a look that said she agreed and trudged on along the path. She slowed her pace, moving her flashlight beam carefully over the ground. “Most of this litter looks like it’s been here awhile. Colors are faded, papers are soggy.”
“Mother Earth’s in the process of turning garbage into mulch and fertilizer,” Stormy said, bending to pick up a molded foam cup that was so covered in dirt it had probably been lying there for months. “She won’t have much luck with some of this, though. Not for several centuries, anyway.” She didn’t put the cup back; instead she stuck it into her backpack.
“Like that helps,” Jason said.
“Every little bit helps, Jay. If everyone who came out here picked something up instead of throwing something down, the place would be pristine.”
“This is getting us nowhere,” Lou said. “Not in the dark without some idea where to look. I hate to say it, but Fieldner might have been right about this being a waste of time.”
“We got the ATM receipt,” Max said. “That’s something, anyway.” She narrowed her eyes. “Fieldner said he’d taken a look around out here. Kind of surprising he didn’t find it.”
She shot a look at Stormy, who shot one right back. And when they both looked at Lou, he had to agree with what he knew they were thinking. Fieldner was a cop. He would have found the slip if he’d been out here looking at all. But why would he lie?
“This is useless,” Max said. The four of them had moved off in separate directions, using a large boulder as their hub. Their hope was that in searching in an ever-widening circle, one of them might stumble upon a clue to which direction the girls had gone. Or had been taken. If they’d even been in the woods at all.
Max took the east, with Lou on her left, heading north. Stormy was on her right, heading south and deeper into the woods. Jason had the west, which basically covered the area between the boulder and the vacant brick building. It hadn’t been an organized plan; it had just worked out that way, though Max was certain none of them trusted Jay quite as much as she would have liked. She kept telling herself that she did trust him, that she knew him, had known him forever, and that his odd behavior was just due to stress and worry over his sister. But all the while she felt a niggling doubt gnawing away at her loyalty to her friend. Something was off about Jay, and she could deny it, but that wouldn’t make it right.
She was, Lou had often told her, the queen of denial.
Hell, maybe she was. She’d certainly been in denial where Lou was concerned.
“It’s too dark,” she muttered as she swept the beam of her light over the moss-and-twig littered ground amid a patchwork of moonlight and shadow. She raised her voice a bit, making it loud enough to carry to the others, who were beyond her range of sight now. “We should give this up and come back tomorrow.”
The breeze picked up, making the leaves rustle and whisper through the trees.
“I agree with Max,” Lou called.
It gave her a start when she heard how far away he seemed to be. She hadn’t realized she’d ventured this far—that any of them had ventured so far—from the boulder. “Let’s meet back in the middle,” she called, a little louder this time. No point in risking any of them getting lost. God, she would hate like hell to prove that creepy Fieldner right. “Okay?”
“Works for me,” Lou called.
“Me, too.” Jason’s voice seemed even more distant than Lou’s.
Max turned toward the south. But no confirmation rang out from that direction. “Stormy?” she called. “Hey, Storm, are you there?”
Nothing. No answer. Max’s heart beat faster. “Storm?”
Something came crashing through the trees from behind her, and she spun around, half expecting to have to fend off an attack. Suddenly something very dark seemed to permeate these woods. She raised her fists, poised to kick the stuffing out of whoever—whatever—appeared.
But it was only Lou who emerged from the dark foliage, his face bathed in moonlight, creased with worry.
“Something’s wrong. Storm’s not answering,” she told him.
He nodded, never slowing his pace, just coming up beside her, sliding a hand around her waist and propelling her forward, toward where they both knew Stormy was supposed to be. “Dammit, Stormy, where the hell are you?” Lou called.
He didn’t sound as frightened as Max felt. That was comforting—almost as much as his broad hand against her waist, resting just above her hip where her shirt had ridden up to bare the skin. He didn’t pull away or try to correct it, and she was grateful, but too worried about her best friend to enjoy his touch as much as she normally would have.
She would just file that bit of pleasure away to be recalled and relived later.
“Storm?” She tugged Lou to a stop and tilted her head to one side. “Wait, listen…what is that?”
The sound grew clearer, slowly wending its way amid the trees and darkness. A low, deep growl that vibrated to the core of Max’s soul. “Jesus.” Her eyes shot to Lou’s. Then she lunged into a run, her flashlight beam bounding uselessly ahead of her.
Lou was on her heels. She heard him there, felt him close, knew he had her back. “Storm!” she shouted.
The growl was closer, louder. She had to be almost upon it, whatever the hell it was. She stumbled to a halt, dragging in breath after ragged breath, lifting her flashlight, which all but pulsed in time with her heart as she fought to hold it still, steady the beam, aim it in the direction of that sound.
It caught on eyes that glowed back at her. Stormy’s eyes. But not.
Stormy was backed up against a gnarled
tree, silent, motionless, maybe dazed or in shock, and no wonder. For there were huge paws braced on her chest and bared teeth in front of her face. The dog—no, sweet Jesus, it was a wolf—the wolf leaned so close to her that she had to feel its breath on her face. Its lips curled, baring teeth that dripped saliva. The low growl kept coming, and the creature never blinked.
9
Lou’s heavy tread stopped right beside Maxie. He saw what she did: the wolf braced against Stormy. Max felt him there, though she couldn’t take her eyes away. She knew when Lou drew his gun, could see him peripherally, his steady hands and outstretched arms, when he leveled the weapon on the wolf.
“Don’t move, Stormy. Just stay perfectly still,” Max said. She tried to make her voice loud enough for Stormy to hear her, while keeping it steady and even enough not to startle the wild animal into action. God, it could rip out Stormy’s throat in the next heartbeat.
She knew Stormy heard her, saw her friend’s strange eyes shift from the wolf’s toward her and Lou. And then those eyes widened, and Stormy shouted in a voice that was very different from her own.
“Nu! Cine scoate sabia de sabia va pieri!”
“What the hell?” Lou asked.
Stormy lifted a hand. It trembled as she stroked the fierce animal’s neck, sinking her fingers into its fur. “El nu e asa de negru cum îl zugrãvesc oamenii,” she murmured.
The wolf dropped down onto all fours, turned and loped away into the forest, but Stormy remained where she was, eyes eerily wide. She watched Max as if she were as afraid of her as she had been of the wolf.
Lou lowered the gun, and Maxie started forward slowly, holding one hand out in front of her, keeping the flashlight’s beam slightly to the left of Stormy’s face. It was hard to tell, even in the beam of the flashlight, but she was certain Stormy’s eyes had changed, darkened. They were no longer her own.
“Storm? Honey? It’s me, Max. Are you all right?”
The perfectly arched brows drew together in a puzzled frown. Stormy lifted a hand as if reaching out to Max, and then she collapsed to the ground.
“Hell!” Max fell to her knees beside her best friend, gently touching her face, her hair.
Lou joined her there in the next breath. “Is she hurt? Do you see any bleeding or—”
“Nothing. I don’t think the wolf hurt her.”
“Jesus, Max, there must be something. She’s out cold.” He was kneeling, too, now, tracing Stormy’s limbs in the beam of the flashlight, searching desperately for injuries.
“I think it’s…I think it’s her head. Not an injury, not the wolf.”
“What do you…?”
“It’s happened before, Lou.”
He stopped feeling for wounds and looked at Max sharply. “On the way up to Maine, when she went off the road?”
Max nodded. “And again, back at the motel. She’s hearing voices, seeing flashes of light and sometimes images. I think it’s precognition, but she’s not so sure. And now this.”
“Come on, Max, precognition? She’s fresh out of a coma. She had a bullet in her brain a few months ago, and you’re writing this off to some kind of ES-freaking-P?”
She closed her eyes, lowered her head.
“She belongs in a hospital, Max.”
“No.” Her head came up sharply. “It’s not brain damage, Lou. It’s something else.”
Lou rolled his eyes, shook his head and scooped Stormy up into his arms. “This isn’t about you, Max. This is about her. It’s about Storm.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She ran to keep up as he strode through the woods back toward the boulder, carrying Stormy as easily as if she were a small child.
“If you know it, then stop thinking about yourself. Stop focusing on how bad it’s gonna be for you if something’s wrong with her, and start thinking about what’s best for her. She’s fucked up. We need to get her well again.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not denial this time! I know this thing isn’t physical.”
“You don’t know shit. You might think it, you might feel it, sense it, intuit it, but you don’t know it. You won’t know until you have proof, and you won’t have proof until she gets a once-over from a qualified doctor. Maybe another set of head shots, just to be sure.”
They emerged onto the knoll where the boulder was. Jason was sitting on the rock, but he leaped off when he saw them, his face twisting at the sight of Stormy. “What happened?”
“She was attacked by a wolf. I don’t think it hurt her, but she passed out,” Max began.
Lou cut in. “We need to get her to a hospital, Jason.”
Nodding, Jason turned and used his light to lead them back along the path. “The back seat folds down in the Jeep,” Jason said. “You can lay her down in there. I’ll drive.”
“Do you know where the nearest hospital is?” Max asked.
“No idea.”
“There was a sign five miles back on the highway,” Lou said. “The exit right before Endover, remember?”
Max nodded as they rounded the brick building and headed into the parking lot. Jason raced ahead to open the back of the Jeep and lower the seat. Then Lou slid Stormy inside. He was as gentle with her as he would have been with an injured child.
“I’ve got this,” Jason said, sliding behind the wheel.
Lou shot Max a look.
She read it, gave him a nod. “I’m riding with her, Jason.”
“There’s not room—”
“Then I’ll make room.” She barked the words, causing Jason to snap his head around and stare at her oddly. “She’s my best friend, and I’m damn well staying with her. Got it?”
“Sure. Jesus, Max, I’m on your side here.”
“Are you?”
Jason frowned, but looked away. He did wait for her to get in the passenger side, because he was correct: there wasn’t room for her in the back with Stormy. Max could lean over the seat, though, stroke Stormy’s hair, her face, talk to her.
Lou pulled Maxine’s forest-green VW Bug into motion and led the way.
Oddly, Max felt some kind of odd weight lift off her mind as soon as they left the town of Endover behind them.
The vampire was watching. He was always watching. He’d watched through the eyes of the wolf, possessing the animal, living within its mind as he stalked the strange woman, eager to get a closer look at her, to feel her. But he’d learned nothing.
Except that she spoke in his own language. Defended the wolf when the man, Lou Malone, threatened it, telling him if he lived by violence he would surely die that way. A threat.
And then she’d touched the wolf, looking deeply into its eyes—his eyes—whispering in his tongue. “He is not so black as he is painted.”
As if she knew.
And now Jason Beck was driving her away, taking her beyond his reach—outside the town he controlled.
Where the hell do you think you are taking her?
Jason’s head jerked up sharply and he jerked the wheel, startled, no doubt, by the voice in his head. He’d obeyed well thus far. He’d brought them here. All this searching, the questioning of Fieldner, plotting with the maps—it had all been an act. Beck was going through the motions, playing the part. Just enough to keep his friends here, long enough to placate the vampire who held his sister.
“To the hospital,” he said. He answered aloud, because he didn’t know how else to reply to a voice that echoed inside his head.
It was fine, the vampire thought. So long as he didn’t give anything away.
The redhead called Max shot him a look and said, “What?”
“How far did Lou say it was to the hospital?” Beck said quickly, covering. And sweating. He was sweating bullets.
The vampire knew he hated lying to his friends. To Max and even more to the one who called herself Stormy, an insult to her true name. Tempest. It suited her. The vampire was certain Lou Malone saw through Beck’s act. Beck no doubt knew it, told himself it would be all right. That
he wasn’t going to let any harm come to his friends. That he could both get his sister back and protect Storm and Max from harm.
He was little more than a boy, however, up against a man more powerful than any he would ever encounter. Malone…that one might prove to be a worthy adversary. Beck was nothing but a tool, and the vampire would use him in any way necessary.
“Lou said the exit was five miles back,” Max told him.
But Jason didn’t hear her, for the vampire was speaking to him again, making his voice ring in the young man’s head like the bells of Notre Dame, maddening, deafening. Do not take her to the hospital. Bring her to me, instead.
“Why?”
“Why, what, Jason?” Max asked.
Fool! Do you not know better than to question me? I rule this place! I hold the life of your own sister in my hands, and I will not hesitate to crush it to dust. Do as I say!
“I can’t.”
“Jason, who the hell are you talking to?”
“I’m not alone,” he said.
Max slammed him in the shoulder. He struggled to shake his thoughts free of the vampire’s grip and faced Maxie. “I can’t stand this. First my sister, and now Stormy. But at least I’m not alone,” he said.
She looked at him oddly, her eyes narrow, probing, as if she thought maybe he was cracking up. He asked himself if maybe he was. Hearing voices in his head—how real could that be? Then again, he didn’t imagine people being mauled by wolves was exactly a commonplace occurrence in twenty-first century New England.
Not for the first time, he thought maybe he should just come clean and tell Max the truth, all of it.
Do not even think of doing that, Jason Beck. If you do, your sister will pay the price.
Beck nodded, acknowledging inside his mind that he had to do what that voice bade him. Even if he was putting his old friends at risk in the process. Delia’s life was at stake. He was her brother. He had to take care of her; it was his job.
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