by Opal Carew
“What? No. Why would she be with me?”
“Well, she said she was going over to her house to get one of her movies about twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t come back. I went over and checked, but she isn’t there, so I thought maybe you or Sam had come home and got her.” Her voice quivered with panic.
“No. Stay at your house, because she’ll probably be right back. I’ll be right there.” I slammed the phone shut as I raced down the stairs. Where could she be? I jumped in my now-clean truck. Within fifteen minutes, I was parked in front of Samantha’s.
The dark skin of her brow furrowed in worry, Mrs. Johnson met me at her door.
“Is she back?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I turned abruptly and jogged over to Samantha’s. I didn’t hear any heartbeats inside, which didn’t fully calm me. I ran through the house, but it was empty. I came back out to the front porch. Where? My eyes drifted down. Beginning at the edge of the sidewalk and continuing around the side of the house was a trail of small footsteps in the snow.
My house. I followed the trail across the snow- covered field and jogged up my front steps. The front door stood open.
There were no heartbeats in this house either. Ollie wasn’t here. Her thin brown bear lay discarded on the floor. A small stack of DVD cases spilled off the coffee table. Her scent was strong in the air and—I seethed—tinged through with fear. She’d been here not long ago.
I froze as I stepped into the living room. Her scent wasn’t the only one I smelled. Vampire. Someone, something, else had been here, too, had been here when Ollie came.
I went feral in that moment, my fangs punching out and my eyes flooding with blood. Giving over to my sense of smell, I stalked through the first floor. It couldn’t be.
One of Ollie’s angel drawings lay on the kitchen island picture-side down. Please don’t let it say what I think it’s going to say. I chanted a prayer as I picked it up.
Through a red haze, I read the curling script of Antoine Laumet’s seventeenth-century hand.
I got tired of waiting for you. But this is so much better. A daughter for a son. Almost poetic, don’t you think?
Unfortunately, she’s just so little. She’s really not a fair trade. So collect the girl’s mother, and come to the Michigan Central Station at midnight.
Don’t think of not bringing her. It will be so much worse if I have to track her down.
My eyes locked into a loop, reading and rereading the lines over again, willing them to shift the letters into different words.
My cell phone rang. Instinctively I knew who it would be. She couldn’t help me now. No one could.
I thought back to Langston’s phone call. I had been played. Betrayed.
The unsettling sensation of Samantha’s worry broke me out of my reverie. The Blood Connection enabled me to sense her from even greater distances now. As she neared my house, she called my name. Her tone was filled with restrained panic.
I crumpled the paper and shoved it in my jeans pocket. I drained my eyes and retracted my fangs, then turned to face her as she ran up the steps and through the front door.
Her world was about to shatter in a million pieces. And I was going to be the one to wield the hammer.
Chapter Seventeen
“Lucien, did you find Ollie?” She registered the look on my face. “Oh, God. What’s happened?” She ran down the hall to the kitchen and stopped right in front of me.
“Samantha.”
She grabbed my arms and shook me. “Lucien? You’re scaring me.”
“Sam, I need you to sit down.”
“What? No. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Do you know how much I love you?”
“Of course I do.” Tears filled her eyes. “What does that have to do—”
“I lied to you last week.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. “What?”
Just rip it open, I thought. “You didn’t fall. You were attacked. You were attacked by the son of a man I used to work for a long time ago.”
She gaped and pushed back the wisps of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.
“The son, his name was Jacques Laumet. He hated me from the day I met him. He attacked you to get at me.”
The next sentence ranked as one of the three most impossibly hard things I was going to have to say to her today: “When I found you that day, he was killing you. Ollie was probably next. I killed him to stop him from doing it.”
Her head shook back and forth involuntarily as she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. Her fear and confusion roiled in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m so sorry I lied to you. I was trying to protect you. I thought we were clear of the danger.”
“You killed someone?” She flung her arms down and paced between the counter and the island. “Defending me?”
I nodded when she finally looked at me. “Sam?” She continued pacing. “Sam!”
“What?”
“There’s more. I need you to listen.”
She braced her hands flat on the counter in front of her and leaned forward. Then she bolted upright. “What does this have to do with Ollie? Oh God, did she see what happened?”
“No, she doesn’t seem to have seen most of what happened after he grabbed you. That’s not the point. Listen to me.” I paused. She focused. “The man I worked for, the father, his name is Antoine Laumet. He is a very powerful…man in this city. He runs a lot of the organized crime here.”
The news devastated her—she paled and gaped. I’d just admitted to working for what she understood to be the mob. I steeled myself for the second of the impossible things I had to tell her: “He took her, Sam. He took Ollie to avenge Jacques.”
She shook her head again. Then she came around the counter, walked straight up to me, and slapped me hard across the face.
I turned back to her and looked at her patiently. That’s the least of what I deserve. She trembled and rubbed her hand. She raised her fists at me and slammed them into my chest. Finally, I caught them, though she twisted and struggled in my grip. “Sam…Sam, stop…Samantha!” But she continued to fight within my arms as tears streamed down her face.
“No. No!” she sobbed and futilely tried to pummel me. “She’s all I have left!”
I hugged her tight. I needed her to work through these emotions, because the situation was far from over. My cell phone rang again in my pocket. I ignored it.
Finally, she pulled back and looked at me fiercely. “You’re part of some criminal underworld, and you exposed Ollie to it?”
I blanched. “It is my fault, Samantha. But I’m not part of that world. I haven’t worked for or with those people in a very long time.”
She scoffed. “Lucien, you’re twenty-eight. How long ago could it have been?”
“I’m older than I look, Sam.”
She squinted and looked at me hard. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I walked right up to her. “You have every right to me furious with me. And you have every right to demand the truth—and I will give it to you, every last bit. But right now, that truth is not the most important thing. The most important thing is Ollie. I think we can get her back.”
She sucked in a breath. I pulled the piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it to her. She uncrumpled and read it, a whimper escaping her throat as she did.
“Why the old train station?” She looked up at me.
“I don’t know. The only thing I can figure is because I’ve never been there before. So he knows I’m not familiar with the building and its layout. Plus it’s relatively isolated.”
She looked at her watch. “We’ve got eight hours. We should call the police.” She walked toward the phone on my counter. I grabbed her wrist.
“We can’t, Sam.” Her eyes and rage sliced into me. “If we do, he’ll kill Ollie or take her away somewhere we’ll never find. The police wouldn’t be very effective against him anyway. Trust me.”
&nbs
p; Her voice came out as a high-pitched wail. “What are we supposed to do then?”
“We’re going to do exactly what he says. I will gladly trade my life for hers. I need you to know that.”
For an instant, her love and trust warmed me before being replaced by a noxious quagmire of hurt, betrayal, and fear.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Then I walked to the kitchen cabinet over the sink. “Drink this.” I pulled the flask down and held it out to her.
“What?”
“I know you don’t trust me. But right now you’re going to have to. You’re going to have to dig deep down where some part of you knows I love you and find a way to trust me. Because Ollie’s life depends on it. All of ours do.”
Her blue-green eyes flashed with love and fear and malice. She grabbed the flask. “What is this?”
“It’s just water. Drink it.”
“Why—”
“Please, dolcezza, just drink it.”
I really hadn’t meant to, but I charmed her a little. She lifted the flask to her lips and emptied it, then made a face. “Tastes weird.” She shoved the flask back at me. “And don’t call me dolcezza.”
I set the flask on the counter as her rage and terror wracked my body. Every bit of the pain I deserved. “Come on. You should change. Then there are some things we need to do.”
She turned and stalked out of the house. She didn’t wait for me as she crossed the field. And I stayed in her living room as she ran upstairs to change. Her distance was suffocating me, a tightness clenched my chest, but as it was entirely of my own making, I could hardly blame her for it. Finally, she came back down in dark jeans tucked into snow boots and a navy turtleneck sweater I’d given her.
It took everything I had not to pull her into my arms when she came downstairs. Instead, she shoved on her coat and walked alone out the door. I followed.
“Get in the truck, please. I’ll tell Mrs. Johnson we’re going to get Ollie, so she doesn’t worry.” Without responding, she got in the truck. I registered the door slamming as I knocked on Mrs. Johnson’s door.
Several hours later, we returned. I’d made stops at four lawyers’ offices and a bank. I also bought a prepaid cell phone just in case, a thick silver necklace I finally convinced Samantha to wear, and a silver-bladed dagger. I had weapons at Edmund Place I could’ve used instead, but I wasn’t willing to leave Samantha alone, and taking her there seemed likely to raise more questions than she already had. I needed her as focused as humanly possible given what we were about to walk into.
She stomped up the sidewalk and into her house. I was about to follow when snow crunched behind me. I spun into a crouch, fangs bared. Catherine stood mostly hidden behind the corner of the next row of townhouses. I relaxed and flew over to her. We stared, silently conversing through our empathy.
“I’ve been calling…How bad is it?” She already knew from my emotions everything was coming apart.
“It couldn’t be worse. Laumet took Ollie. Samantha and I have to meet him at midnight to try to get her back.”
Catherine growled. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, you won’t. He’s going to have guards everywhere. He’ll know you’re coming before you’re anywhere near him. I can’t risk Ollie that way.” She searched for alternatives, but there weren’t any. “There is something you can do. Get the rest of the family here. If either of them makes it out of this alive, do everything you can to protect them. Take them out of the city if you have to. Give them access to any and all of my resources. I’ve made all of the arrangements, and Griffin knows who to contact. Just make sure they’re taken care of.”
“Why are you talking like you’re not going to be here?”
I shrugged. “I’m not the most important thing.”
“Don’t you do that. Don’t you fucking do that, Lucien. You come back from this. You hear me? Don’t be reckless. They need you.”
Kicking at the snow, I nodded, but refused to voice any promises I couldn’t keep.
She grabbed my hands and squeezed. “We’ll be here for all of you, Lucien.”
I kissed her cheek. “I have to go.”
“Wait.” She ripped the clothing aside at her neck. “I don’t know what you’re walking into, but you need every possible advantage. Don’t even think about resisting.”
I met her eyes and sent her a rush of eternal gratitude. I embraced her and sliced my teeth into her neck. I drank and drank and was about to pull away when she gripped her hand at the back of my head and held me down. I could feel her concern for my safety, but I couldn’t let her gravely weaken herself for me.
I pulled back more forcefully this time. She didn’t fight.
I kissed her cheek again. A thin red tear stole from her eye as I ran back to Samantha’s.
***
Soft snowflakes fell as I drove the truck up the long deserted approach road through Roosevelt Park to the ghostly grandeur of the Michigan Central Railroad Station. Built in the early twentieth century, the structure was imposing with its massive arched windows and neoclassical office building towering eighteen stories above. Its height was all the more pronounced due to the lack of any other noticeable building around it.
After refusing to talk to me all evening, Samantha’s nerves had finally gotten the better of her. On the ride over she began tentatively talking and asking questions. Hearing her voice, even transformed as it was by fear and rage, was like a salve. All her words could be summed up by the ones she stated fiercely as we got closer to our destination: “No matter what, Lucien, we have to get her back. Promise me we can get her back.”
I cupped my hand tenderly around her neck, groaning inwardly at the relief the physical contact provided. “I will gladly give my life to make that happen, Samantha.”
She nodded and met my eyes momentarily, then glanced back down at her knotted hands.
I parked and scanned the area around us. I couldn’t see or sense anyone, but surely they were there. As my eyes searched, I reiterated a list of rules to Samantha. “I need to say this one more time. You have to listen. You have to obey.”
She met my gaze.
“First, I need you to avoid looking in Laumet’s eyes. It would just be better in general to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.” I could feel her wanting to question me again; we’d already had this argument. “Second, no matter what happens, you must remain at my side at all times so I can focus on how to regain physical possession of Ollie. Third, if I tell you to close your eyes, close them immediately and do not open them for any reason until I tell you to.” I studied her to see if she was going to question me. “Finally—”
A shadow moved in front of the right side of the arched entryway.
I opened the truck door and stepped out, then motioned for Samantha to slide across the seat so she could get out on my side with me. As I shut the door, two more shadows—now taking shape as bodies—appeared. I grasped Samantha’s hand tight in my own and walked around the front of the truck toward the building.
She tucked her body snug against my shoulder. I could smell her terror, but to her credit she was outwardly calm, steady, and focused.
I didn’t recognize the vampires in the entryway. A tall black male radiating confidence opened the doors and indicated we should follow, while the other two males—one pale and bald and a muscular one with spiky blond hair—felt more curious and excited and followed behind to prevent our escape.
Samantha grasped me tighter as she lost her sight to the pitch black of the empty cavernous waiting room. My eyes scanned over the huge arched ceiling and the numerous classical columns, committing to memory as much of the physical layout of the building as I could. The space narrowed as they led us down a long arcade. Up ahead, I could just make out a hint of gray light. Samantha’s heartbeat and the sound of our footsteps scattering unseen debris on the hard floor thundered in the stillness.
The walls around us opened up once more into another large hall—a row of abandoned ti
cket windows lined one side of the room. The light I perceived moments before came from ahead of us.
I pressed my lips against Samantha’s ear. “Remember the rules and that I love you.”
She nodded against my face and shivered like she was freezing.
As we stepped out into the massive rectangular concourse, I sensed and then saw a group congregated at one end of the long space. I surveyed the landscape: exit doors stood at each end, although Laumet’s group blocked one set and the other appeared chained. A row of doors lined one wall, presumably the exits to the now defunct platforms. My shoulders fell as I calculated the odds. Including the three men escorting us in, seven of Laumet’s inner circle and guard stood before us.
Samantha glanced up from underneath her eyelashes. She was looking for the same thing I was, but Ollie was not among them.
I locked eyes with Laumet from halfway across the hall. When we were within fifteen feet of him, I stopped abruptly. Samantha stumbled into me.
“Where is she?” My voice was coarse.
“Tsk. Tsk. All in good time.” He glanced at Samantha. “I have not had the pleasure of your introduction.”
Her eyes flickered up at him. Dressed impeccably in a dark gray suit, he moved toward us. At first her terror elevated. I took a step back, pushing her back with me. But then I was rocked with a wave of defiance and fury. I looked to Samantha, awed at her strength. She had stepped out from behind me and stood squared off, tall, erect. I wished I could read her mind, but I guessed by reading her body she’d decided she would not be cowed.
I raised my arm up in front of her. “That’s close enough, Antoine.”
He raised his hands in a gesture of assurance and stopped several feet in front of Samantha. He looked at me expectantly. Then he sighed and bowed slightly. “Madame, I am Antoine Laumet.”
Samantha’s eyes darted to my face before focusing forward again.
His smile was indulgent. “Is it not still customary to offer one’s name in return upon an introduction?” A murmuring chuckle rumbled through the group.