Bones rolled down his window. “Fabian,” he called out, “get your ghostly arse back in the car, we’re leaving.”
Bones did make good time back to the Red Roof Inn. The thought of that uncomfortable mattress with those thin blankets sounded sinfully appealing to me now. Yet while we were waiting at a stoplight about a mile away, pain sliced into my skull.
…understand this man will stop at nothing, and you’ll never be safe…
“Gregor,” I breathed, so low it was barely a sound.
“Where?” Bones whipped his head around.
…ensure your protection, but you must trust me, chérie…
“Oh, Jesus,” I whispered. “Bones…I think he’s at the hotel!”
Bones made a U-turn, then hit the accelerator. Brakes squealed, and other vehicles slammed to a stop while horns blared. He hadn’t bothered to wait for the light.
“Fabian,” Bones said in a tight voice, “go back to the hotel to check. We’ll be at the gates of the park we just left.”
“I will be quick.” Fabian promised, and he vanished. We didn’t even have to slow down.
Bones continued to floor it, checking the rearview mirror. After several miles, he pulled over at a gas station.
“Come on, luv, time to switch cars.”
We got out. The man fueling his Honda next to us only had time to say, “What the—?” before Bones hit him with his gaze.
“This is your car now,” he said. “And yours is mine.”
“My car,” the man repeated, eyes glazing.
“Right. Go home and clean it, it’s ghastly dirty.”
“Wait until he starts on the trunk,” I mumbled, getting into the man’s vehicle.
Bones drove less aggressively this time, but he still went way above the speed limit. Instead of the direct route to the park, he took side roads. Once we reached the park, Bones pulled under a tree, shutting off the engine and the headlights.
In the quiet, my accelerated breathing sounded too loud. “Do you—do you think—”
“Why do you believe Gregor’s at the motel?”
He asked it as nonchalantly as if he were inquiring, paper or plastic? That didn’t fool me. His knuckles were almost white on the steering wheel.
How to explain? “I got these sharp pains in my head, and I could hear him, only he wasn’t talking to me now. I think it was memories of what he’d said before, and the only other time it happened was when he was close, on the street in New Orleans.”
A pause. Then, “What did he say?”
“You couldn’t hear it?” That surprised me.
“No.” The mildness drained from his tone. “Else I wouldn’t ask.”
“Um, okay. The first one was quick, just a fragment. Something about there not being a cherry farm in France. This time, he was warning me that someone was after me.”
Bones grunted. “That sounds very present tense, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, it does,” I mused. “But somehow, I still think it was a memory.”
Fabian appeared at the windshield. The sudden sight of him made me jump in my seat. He could sure sneak up on someone.
“The yellow-haired vampire was there,” he announced. “He was behind the motel with six others. I don’t think they saw me.”
Bones stared at me. His gaze was filled with something I couldn’t name.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“This.”
His fist shot out.
When my eyes opened, I saw darkness with slight flickers of light around the edges. I was sitting, but not in the car. It sounded like we were on a plane.
Immediately, I reached for the blindfold, but cool hands stopped me.
“Don’t, Kitten.”
I turned in the direction of his voice. “Get this off me.”
“No. Quit squirming and let me talk.”
I froze, remembering. “You knocked me out.”
“Yes.” Wariness edged his tone. “Are you going to sit still?”
“Depends. Why’d you hit me?” He’d better have a damn good reason.
“Remember when I said the only people who could be informing Gregor of our whereabouts were in the car? Liza, Band-Aid, and Hopscotch didn’t know where we were staying in Fort Worth, and even if they did, they’ve been without means to communicate. Denise and Spade didn’t know where we were staying. Fabian was with us the entire time, and if somehow he were a traitor, he could have said Gregor wasn’t waiting at the hotel. That leaves only you and me. I haven’t told Gregor anything, so that leaves…you.”
I was stunned. “You think I’ve been sneaking behind your back with Gregor?”
“Not on purpose, but in the same way Gregor maneuvered you to Paris, and communicated with you in your dreams; who’s to say he hasn’t found a way to eavesdrop as well? It’s a guess, Kitten, but if I’m wrong, you only lose some time awake.”
And if he was right…
“What’s your plan? Smack me into a coma and wait to see if Gregor goes away?” I’d thought nothing was worse than feeling helpless, but being a potential liability? That was worse.
“Of course not. But when we change locations, I want you to take those pills so you’ll sleep. If you don’t know where we are, but Gregor’s still able to track you, we’ll know it’s not from his picking through your mind while you dream.”
God, this sucked. Like waiting to see if an animal was rabid, I’d be penned and quarantined.
“Then why did you bother waking me? We’re on a plane. I can hear the engines. Why not wait until we got to where we’re going?”
“You need to eat and drink, and I thought you’d like to freshen up.”
Once again I reached for the blindfold, and once again he stopped me.
“Leave it on.”
“Why? I already know we’re on a plane, but I can’t navigate by the clouds!”
“You don’t know what kind of plane,” Bones replied intractably. “Make, model, type; these things could be used to trace you. It’s just for a little while, Kitten.”
Just for little while if he was wrong. But for how long if he was right?
“Fine. Which is first, the feeding or the cleaning? I don’t know whether to open my mouth or take off my clothes.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry.”
“Does that mean you’re going to hit me? Last time you apologized, my head got dented.”
I clung to flippancy to avoid bursting into tears at the thought that somehow I was the one who’d been tipping Gregor off.
“It’s your preference, and no, I’m not going to hit you.”
I wished I could see his eyes. They’d have told me more about what he was really thinking. But all I had was his voice, and Bones was keeping it carefully controlled.
“Then show me the way to the bathroom. Even I can tell that I stink.”
However long I’d been out, it wasn’t for only a quick nap. My bladder was squealing, and my mouth tasted filmy. Charming.
His fingers curled around mine. “I’ll show you.”
Left with no other choice except to stumble around, I let Bones lead me.
I used the tiny bathroom sink to wash my hair. That was interesting to do while keeping my eyes closed, since I’d insisted the blindfold be removed. Bones stayed in the doorway the entire time, handing me whatever I needed. From the sounds, there were others on the plane with us. Even though none of them would peek, I felt exposed with the door open. When I was finished, he gave me new clothes.
Then I got spoon-fed. With every bite of what tasted like chicken, my sense of despair rose. So much for equality in our relationship. I couldn’t be more useless right now. When Bones handed me the four caplets, I gulped them down eagerly. Better to be knocked out than this.
Bones woke me again after however long, and we repeated the procedure. The sightless rocking and lolling told me we were still on a plane, but it might have been
a different one. The engine sounded throatier. Again I snatched at the pills and washed them down, this time refusing to be spoon-fed. I wasn’t going to starve, and keeping hydrated was the only real concern. Bones didn’t argue. He just stroked my head while I waited for them to take effect.
The last thing I heard before blackness claimed me was, “…landing soon, Crispin.” It sounded like Spade. Or maybe I was already dreaming.
ELEVEN
MY EYES OPENED, ADJUSTING TO THE BRIGHT light of the room. I was still swallowing Bones’s familiar-tasting blood when I became aware that it was from a glass, not a vein.
“If I had to drink that animal’s blood each day, I’d cheerfully starve myself to death.”
Oh, dear God. Please let me be dreaming! “Mom?”
She gave me a disapproving frown before setting the glass on a nearby table.
“You’ve lost weight again. Can’t that creature keep you from starving?”
Nope, not dreaming. This was her in the flesh. “What are you doing here? Where’s Bones?”
She held up a hand. “He went out somewhere. Even if I knew where, I wouldn’t be able to say. You know, in case the other vampire would find out. I must say, Catherine, you have deplorable taste in men.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Any one of the three, help me. “Can we skip the usual Bash Bones game? I’m not in a good mood.”
“Nor should you be,” she said without sympathy. How typical. “You married the frying pan, and now it looks as though you may have also wed the fire.”
What had Bones been thinking, bringing her here? Sure, have my mother spend some time with me. After that, I’d be begging to be drugged.
“Don’t mention Gregor, or I’ll…”
I stopped, and her mouth curled. “You’ll what, Catherine?”
What indeed? She was my mother. I couldn’t threaten to slap, stab, beat, or even name-call her. I tried to think of something to scare her into never mentioning my predicament with the Dreamsnatcher again.
“I’ll become a swinger,” I said. Her eyes bugged. Uptight rearing made her uncomfortable with alternate lifestyles. “That’s right. Threesomes, foursomes, more. Bones knows about a thousand chicks who’d love to hop into bed with us. It’ll be kinky, we’ll get our freak on—”
She puffed up in outrage. “Catherine!”
Below us, I heard a feminine laugh. One recognizable and just as unexpected.
“What is it you Americans say? I call shotgun!”
Annette, the first vampire Bones ever created, laughed again. It was the knowing chuckle of someone not kidding.
My mother vaulted to her feet. The bedroom was open and Annette had spoken loud enough for even my mother to hear her.
“The day after never, you voracious English tramp!”
Even though I mentally applauded the insult, I was the one who’d started this. “Mom, don’t call Annette a tramp. It’s none of your business how many people she’s banged.”
Okay, so I couldn’t be entirely magnanimous. What had Bones been thinking, having both of them under the same roof with me? Considering her centuries-long, graphic former relationship with Bones, Annette and I didn’t get along very well on the best of days. My mother and I had lots of issues despite her recent softening toward the undead, one ghoul in particular.
“Mom, nice to see you. Now, I’d like to take a real bath.”
She rose. “Everyone in the house knows not to mention where we are, so you can do whatever as long as you don’t go outside. I brought some clothes for you. They’re in the closet. Oh, and don’t turn on the television. Or the radio, and needless to say, you can’t use the phone.”
With that helpful information, she swept out. I paused for a second, then swung my legs out of bed. At least I’d get to bathe without assistance. Baby steps and all that.
After I was thoroughly bathed, groomed, and dressed, I went downstairs, where I could hear all the other voices. Mission accomplished on me not knowing where the hell I was. All I could surmise was that the house was older, though modernly refurbished, and it was on a steep cliff. The outside window had told me that. Green hills and rocks stretched as far as the eye could see, and the air smelled different. It could have been the northern Rockies, but somehow, it didn’t feel like America. Maybe Canada. Maybe not.
I decided I shouldn’t keep guessing. That would defeat the purpose, after all.
The chatter stopped with almost comical abruptness when I came into the kitchen. Five heads picked up with false nonchalance. In addition to my mother and Annette, Bones’s sire Ian was here, along with Spade and Rodney.
“Hi, everyone,” I remarked. “Is this the whole crew? Or are there more of you lurking around?”
“Oh, there’s more,” my mother began before she cried out, “Ouch! Who kicked me?”
An unladylike snort escaped me. “That would be Spade. So, I’m not even allowed to know who’s here? Why does that matter?”
“Just a few guards, Cat,” Spade replied dismissively, eyeing my mother with warning. “Nothing to bother about.”
“Fine.” If I demanded to know more, I’d probably get the blindfold again.
Ian was reclined in a chair, legs crossed at the ankles. His turquoise eyes contained a roguish gleam as he slid them to my mother.
“I missed you last night when I arrived. Lovely to see you again, poppet,” Ian drawled.
Rodney gave Ian the same warning look I did, but for a different reason. Rodney and my mother were, ah, dating. Or at least, they were the last I’d heard. Dwelling on my mother’s romantic life squicked me out, and that had nothing to do with Rodney being a ghoul.
“Leave my mother alone,” I said to Ian, glowering at him.
He smiled, unrepentant. Ian wouldn’t know how to feel remorse if his afterlife depended on it. Though he’d proven to be a loyal friend to Bones, Ian and I had a murky history. He liked to collect the rare and unusual, be they items or people. That penchant had led Ian to try blackmailing me into a “friends with benefits” relationship once, before Ian knew my whole history with Bones. Now Ian didn’t make an inappropriate move toward me, but he did seem to take enjoyment in finding ways to annoy me.
Case in point: Ian cast a leisurely look at my mother, making sure I saw him pause at certain parts. Then he grinned.
“Truly a pleasure to see you again, Justina.”
All I could hope was that the same revulsion for vampires that had made my childhood hellish would serve my mother now. My mother hated my father, Max, since he’d seduced her, then told her she’d just had sex with an evil demon—all because he thought it was funny. She’d gotten pregnant from that encounter and thought she gave birth to a half-demon baby—me. I’d paid for my father’s warped sense of humor all my life, until Bones showed me that there was more to vampires than fangs.
My mother still must not be convinced that fangs didn’t equate to evil, judging from the look she gave Ian.
“Don’t you have somewhere else you could be?” she asked him in a withering voice.
Ian’s smile just broadened. “Certainly. Pull up your skirt, and I’ll show you.”
“That’s it!” I shrieked, lunging at Ian even as Rodney upended his chair and came after him as well. We both were so blinded by fury; all Ian had to do was slide back to watch us clang into each other instead of him.
“Ian, enough,” Spade snapped, stepping between me and Rodney when both of us leapt to our feet for another try. “Cat, Rodney—Ian’s finished now. Isn’t he?”
Spade glared at Ian, who just lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“For now.”
I was trapped indoors with my mother, her pissed-off boyfriend, Bones’s ex-lover, his horny sire, and his secretive best friend. Whatever appetite I’d had when I came downstairs was gone. The only thing I wanted to do was get away from all of them, but that meant hiding in my room, and I’d had enough of that, too.
Maybe there was one thing that could help. I w
ent to the cabinets and began to rifle through them with single-minded determination.
“What are you looking for, Catherine?” my mother asked.
“Liquor.”
I was into my third bottle of Jack Daniel’s when Bones arrived. It was sunset, the dying rays turning his hair reddish as he walked through the door. Even a glimpse of his hard, rippled frame caused my hand to tighten on the whiskey. God, he looked good, but I needed to slam the lid on my dirty mind and seek other things to think about. Farm equipment. Agriculture. The state of the economy.
“Blimey, Kitten, is this what you’ve been doing all day? Drinking?”
The judgmental tone Bones used doused my momentary ardor. Nope, no need to ponder the national deficit next!
“Your color’s good, so who are you to talk,” I said. “Is that what took you so long? Did she taste extra yummy?”
I was jealous, as irrational as that might be. Bones picked women to feed from for two reasons—with his looks, they were pathetically easy to get alone, and he liked their flavor more. I hadn’t believed Bones could really taste the difference between male and female blood until he proved it to me. The man could flawlessly genderize a whole blood bank. Once he’d commented that he thought it might be an acquired liking of estrogen.
“She didn’t taste like a gallon of whiskey, that’s for certain,” he shot back, coming over and arching a brow at my near-empty bottle. “Is that all you’ve had today?”
“Certainly is, Crispin,” Ian sang out. “She’s been drinking with the pluck of an Irishman!”
I had nothing heavy nearby to throw at Ian aside from the whiskey, and I wasn’t letting go of that. “Bite me, Ian!”
Bones snatched at my bottle, but I’d been anticipating that. I held on, and it was tug-of-war.
“Put it down,” he barked, prying my hand from my prize. “You need solid food, Kitten, and about a keg of water. Crikey, where’s your mum? Can’t the woman be counted on to at least see that you eat?”
If he had been trying to piss me off, he couldn’t have picked a better way. “Oh sure. Have someone feed me, water me, and keep me on a leash. You know what you should have married, Bones? A dog, then you wouldn’t have all those pesky problems about it occasionally acting on its own.”
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