It took us an hour and a half of calling around hotels in Nice to find the one where Merrick was staying.

“Merci, merci beaucoup,” I said into my phone, giving Ellis a thumbs-up. We were almost to Nice, and I made a note on a scrap of paper. “And you have a room I could book? Excellent. The name is Ellis Dawson. We’ll be there in about half an hour. Merci! Au revoir.”  I hung up and looked at Ellis. “You speak French. What does devenir chèvre mean?”

Ellis shot me a startled look. “Where did you hear that?”

“It’s the name of the hotel.” I glanced down at the note. “Hôtel Devenir Chèvre. That doesn’t mean something rude, does it? Like Hotel Lady of the Evening? Hotel Scatological Content? Hotel Nose Pickings?”

“How your mind works!” Ellis said, laughing. “No, it literally means to become a goat, although colloquially it means to be driven mad by someone.”

“The hotel mad goat?” I shook my head. “Whatever it is, it’s not close to the water. It’s on ... let’s see ... forty-two rue Monteton.”

Ellis choked. “You’re shitting me!”

“I wouldn’t poop on anyone, least of all you. Why would you even say that?”

“Monteton means ‘my nipple’ in French, my innocent one.”

I was silent for a moment. “Trust Merrick to stay at the mad goat hotel on nipple street. They’d better have a place for dog walkies, since Kelso will have to go by the time we get there.”

“You’d better hope your sexy vampire wasn’t so suspicious by your texts that he left immediately.”

I made a face. “He was still there as of a minute ago, so I think we’re good.”

“You might be, dear heart, but I am anything but good. Or at least, so I plan to be very naughty indeed on this exotic vacation. Tell me there’s a pool at this goat hotel.”

“I hope so. It is the French Riviera, after all.” We chatted about what Ellis hoped to do during his vacation (mostly lounge on the beach and next to pools, and ogle the scantily clad males), and what things I wanted to do (ogle Merrick).

We rolled into town shortly after that, and went straight to the hotel, a gleaming white stone building that was almost blinding in the full sun. It was three stories tall, had a center courtyard that was partially covered by a second-story verandah, and which also sported lots of plants in pots, and black iron grilles on the windows.

“Hello,” I said to the desk clerk when we arrived. Ellis was panting by the time he hauled his mammoth luggage in from the car. Kelso, having had a potty break on the green strip of lawn in front of the hotel, sat politely and gently wagged his tail. “I’m Tempest Keye, and this is Ellis Dawson. I reserved a room for him.”

“Ah, oui?” The man sitting behind an old-fashioned reception desk looked up from a book. His gaze moved from me to Kelso to Ellis.

“Yes. Oui. I hope it has air-conditioning, because it’s hot as blazes out there.”

“Hotter,” Ellis said, glancing around the small reception area. Off it, the cool darkness of a tiny dining room sat unoccupied. Next to us was an elevator and a flight of carpeted stairs. Ellis moved over to consider one of the portraits that hung on three of the four walls.

“Do you need a credit card?” I asked the desk clerk. “I’ll pay, Ellis, since I brought you out here.”

“Sweetness, you are spoiling me rotten, and I love every minute of it! I’d insist on paying my own way, but you know full well that IT pays nothing, and I just about bankrupted myself getting the plane tickets,” Ellis said, stopping in front of one painting of a girl in a Georgian-era dress. “Is it just me, or does this chickie have three arms?”

The clerk graciously allowed me to pay, and asked for Ellis’s passport.

“Passport?” I asked Ellis, going over to where he was leaning in squinting at a painting of what looked to be twin blond-haired boys. Absently, he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to me before pointing to the painting and saying, “Can you see through those two boys? I swear they’re

transparent.”

“Why would someone paint transparent twins?” I asked, and returned to the desk clerk, handing over the passport.

“The dog in this picture has a forked tongue,” Ellis called over to me, pointing at a picture of a little girl and her panting dog. He looked again at the picture. “And so does the girl.”

“What of Madame?” the clerk asked. “You are not staying with us?”

“I could swear this painting is of Barnabas Collins from that Dark Shadows soap opera that my mother loved so much.” Merrick moved a plant in a pot in order to get a closer look at a painting of a man holding a cane.

The desk clerk raised an eyebrow at me, causing me to blush. “Oh. Um. About that.” I tried very hard to not look like the sort of woman who shacked up with the first vampire she met. “I’ll be staying with Merrick. Merrick Simon. I called about him, too.”

“Monsieur Simon has not informed me about this,” the clerk said, and sat down, picking up his book again.

“Well, he will just as soon as he knows I’m here. What room is he in? I’ll go talk to him and he can tell you it’s OK that I share his room.”

“That I cannot tell Madame,” the clerk said, not even looking up. “It is the policy of the Hôtel Devenir Chèvre to not release information. I am sure Madame understands this little problem.”

“Madame doesn’t,” I said somewhat waspishly, and pulled out my wallet to extract a few euros. “Right, what’ll it cost me to get Merrick’s room number?”

“I’m going to look up Dark Shadows on YouTube,” Ellis informed the room in general. “I know I’m right about this.”

The man looked horrified at my attempted bribe. “Pardon?”

“You heard me just fine. How much for Merrick’s room number?”

“Didn’t Barnabas Collins have a cane? Someone on that show did—”

The clerk looked obstinate. “I cannot be bought, madame!”

“Fine.” I picked up the handle of an old-fashioned phone that sat on the counter, clearly for guests’ use. “I’ll call him first, and then he can tell you to let me know. What room is he in?”

The look the clerk gave me was amusing, but not in the least bit helpful. “No, madame.”

“Sheesh!” I shoved the phone at him. “You dial it, then.”

“I cannot.”

“Gah!” I switched tactics (I never was good at being bad cop). “Think of the good karma that will come your way for telling me. Merrick needs me, and by letting me know where he is, you’ll make us both happy. Birds will sing, squirrels will dance with each other, and the galaxy will continue to spin on its way secure in the knowledge that you did the right thing.”

The clerk looked unimpressed by the galaxy’s good thoughts.

“You, sir, are most annoying,” I told him, and turned my back. Merrick, are you there?

Silence answered my question.

You’re not ignoring me just because you’re annoyed, are you? Because if you are, you need to stop. I really need to talk to you.

He didn’t answer. I sighed, not sure if he was just being stubborn, or if, for some reason, we were no longer connecting mentally. Glumly, I went over to where Ellis was taking pictures of a portrait, while muttering to himself, “It has to be the same picture.”

“It’s a good thing there are two beds in your room, because I may be needing one of them,” I told him.

“Hmm?” Ellis dragged his attention from the portrait. “Wait, what? You can’t stay with me. What if I want to invite someone back to my room?”

“For what?” I asked before my brain, with a disgusted click of its tongue, reminded me that other people enjoyed sexy times as much as I did. “Oh, for that. Well ...”

“Why can’t you stay with your fanged one?” Ellis asked.

“He won’t tell me.” I nodded to the clerk, who was pretending to be absorbed in his book.

Ellis sized him up, smiled, and said, “Leave this to me, darling.”

I watched with amazement as Ellis sauntered over to the reception desk, and said in a drawl, “Bonjour.”

The clerk looked up, and sat up straighter, his hands making little gestures that I interpreted as him being pleasantly flustered. “Bonjour, monsieur.”

“I understand that you told my friend she can’t see her boyfriend.” Ellis leaned in and whispered something in the clerk’s face. Instantly the man pursed his lips, and shook his head.

Ellis whispered again. This time, the clerk gave one of those Gallic shrugs I’ve seen in old black-and-white French movies, and wrote something on a piece of paper, which he gave to Ellis.

“You are the bestest friend ever,” I told Ellis when he strolled over to me. “What room is Merrick in?”

“No clue.” Ellis grabbed the handle of his behemoth suitcase. “Be a dear and grab my airport shop bags, would you? Let’s take the elevator. I don’t think I’m up to hauling my suitcase up a flight of stairs.”

“You didn’t get the room number? Then what did the guy write down for you?”

Ellis grinned. “His number. I’m meeting him at nine.”

I pulled out my cell phone. “I’m just going to have to text Merrick and ask him what room he’s in, although he’s bound to kick up a fuss.”

To: Merrick

What is your room num—

A movement at the hotel’s glass door caught my eye before I could finish the text.

Standing just outside it with his hand on the door was Carlo. For the count of ten, we stared at each other.

“Ellis!” I shrieked, and pointed. “It’s my dad’s cousin Carlo!”

“What?” Ellis dropped the handle of his suitcase and hurried over to me.

Carlo spun on his heel, and was gone before I could blink. “Come on, we have to follow him.” I clutched my phone, grabbed Kelso’s leash, and bolted through the door, the heat of the day hitting me like a wall. The hotel itself didn’t have a parking lot, but there was parking a half block away, and that’s where I saw Carlo headed.

“Hurry!” I yelled, waving Ellis on. “You can run faster than me. Blast my vanity in getting heels. See where he’s going!”

Ellis sprinted past me, leaving Kelso and me to run as fast as we could after him. I made a mental promise to myself never again to buy anything but flats. Kelso loped beside me, tongue lolling, evidently going with the flow of this new game we were playing.

“I should let you off your leash and send you to follow them, but I don’t want you getting lost again,” I told the dog in between pants. “You’ll just have to ... whew, I need to take up jogging or something. You’ll just have to put up with slow me.”

Ellis disappeared around a large parked bus into the parking lot, and I set up a little chant of “don’t get away, don’t get away” before I dashed around the bus into the lot.

In front of me, a black car squealed to a halt. I didn’t have to see who was behind the tinted windows before the door opened. I knew full well it was Carlo, and that he’d just set up the most obvious trap in the world—and I’d fallen for it. I turned quickly, whipping out my phone to call Merrick, but the text message screen was still open.

“Get the phone,” a voice snarled from the car at the same time that Ellis warbled, “Run, Tempest, run!”

“Too late—ow! Stop pulling my hair. Hey, don’t delete my text message! And don’t you dare leave Kelso behind! He has abandonment issues!”

The man behind me—to my surprise, not Giovanni—was short and dark, but built like a bull. My struggles to get free meant nothing to him, not even when I tried some backward kicks to his shin. Kelso leaped around, barking wildly, evidently unsure of whether we were playing, but even that didn’t bother the man. He just tightened his grip on my hair until tears stunned my eyes, and dragged me backward into the car, where he threw me onto the floor of the backseat.

“No!” I screamed, and pushed myself up off the floor, only to be slammed down again by a heavy weight. One that panted and licked my ear.

“Kelso, get off of me—hey!” I struggled to my knees, and managed to get myself and Kelso onto the seat next to an indignant Ellis.

“How dare you!” he said, trying to open the car door. “Unlock this at once! We are American citizens, and—”

“Shut up,” Carlo said, pointing a very real gun at Ellis, who gasped and blanched.

Giovanni, I was unhappy to note, was behind the wheel of the car, his emotionless eyes moving from Carlo to the rearview mirror, and back to Carlo, his gaze never resting very long on any one thing.

“Look, I imagine you think something is happening that hasn’t actually happened,” I said when Carlo dismissed the third man, and got into the car. “But I can assure you that my friend here has nothing to do with Merrick.”

“So you admit you are working with him.” Carlo’s voice was silky smooth. It gave me the shivers, and not the good kind.

“Not at all. What you saw on the video screens was Merrick kidnapping me. I didn’t know who he was before that. Well, that’s not strictly true,” I said, my conscience prompting me into full disclosure. I blamed my time in the cult for my inability to lie. “But it’s the first time I met him.”

Carlo’s eyes narrowed until they were little slits of anger. “You came to my house under the guise of my cousin’s daughter, when all along you were trying to infiltrate my home for the Dark One?” His voice was as flat as Giovanni’s eyes. “I see the truth now. You are to be congratulated on your deception. You are quite the actress.”

“I’m not!” I objected. Ellis made a wordless noise of protest, and gripped my arm. “I’m a horrible actress. Just ask anyone! I didn’t know you were Victor until Merrick told me after he kidnapped me.”

“Victor,” Carlo said slowly, allowing the syllables to roll over his tongue. “Is that what the Dark One thinks? How very interesting.”

“You’re not him? Er ... Victor?” I shook my head. “Now I’m lost. If you’re not the big bad guy, then why did you kidnap us? Why did you show up at Merrick’s hotel? Why did you leave your house in such a hurry with pictures of Merrick and me plastered all over your video screens?”

Carlo turned around to face front, clearly done with the conversation.

“Where are you taking us?” Ellis asked, his voice a bit higher than normal. “We’re Americans! You can’t just abduct us like this.”

There was no answer from the front seat. I exchanged glances with Ellis, and tried my door, but it was locked.

Kelso curled up between us, his head resting on my lap.

I slumped back, wondering what plans Carlo had, and how we could escape.

We stopped about an hour later. Ellis was asleep next to me, slumped sideways, snoring, his face mashed against the window, where he was drooling slightly. Kelso was also sound asleep, although his ears and feet twitched as if he was chasing something in his dreams.

Only I was awake when we slowed down and pulled into a gas station. We were still in France, or so I assumed because we hadn’t passed over a border. I’d given up trying to get Carlo to talk to me, and instead made and discarded any number of escape plans.

I could knock down whoever opened the car door, and run away ... except that would leave Kelso and Ellis behind.

I could wake up Ellis, whisper the plan, and have a firm grip on Kelso’s leash when the car door was open, then burst out of it, knocking down whoever was there, and then fleeing. But still ... high heels and running did not equal good fleeing skills.

Could I go barefoot?

I looked at the gritty asphalt, and discarded that idea.

What if I hit Giovanni on the head with something while he was driving, and escaped that way?

I looked around the backseat, but there was nothing there but the bag slung across my chest, which was hardly a blunt weapon.

I couldn’t even call Merrick, since Carlo had my phone.

I kicked Ellis with my toes a couple of times until he snorted, murmuring sleepily.

“Wake up,” I whispered in his ear. “Ellis, wake up!”

He murmured again, and turned his back to me, the jet lag clearly having caught up to him. I nudged and kicked him a few more times, but he just mumbled and started snoring again.

There was nothing for it—I couldn’t see a way to save Ellis and me, but if I got away from Carlo, then they’d be likely to dump Ellis somewhere. They wanted me, not him, so I was fairly confident that they wouldn’t want to be bothered with a captive who had no use.

They might kill him, Inner Tempest pointed out, but I reminded her that Carlo had had the chance to do that already, and hadn’t, which boded well for Ellis.

I had a strong feeling I was in a different situation, which meant I couldn’t just sit back here and wait for them to use me to get to Merrick.

I turned my head slightly to look out of the window. Giovanni stood outside the car, filling the gas tank. In front of me, Carlo had leaned back in his seat, if not asleep, then clearly relaxed.

Giovanni finished with the gas and, with a stretch, bent down to say something  through the window to Carlo. The latter just grunted. Giovanni headed for the gas station building, probably to use the bathroom.

It was now or never.

Without telegraphing my intentions, I suddenly flung myself forward, slamming my fist into the side of Carlo’s head and causing his head to knock painfully into the window. He snarled in pain, one hand up to the eye I’d punched, the other scrabbling at nothing. He was effectively trapped by his seat belt when I scrambled over the seat, but turned to look when I snatched up my phone, which sat next to him on the seat. I punched him again, snapping his head back with a dull crack, and climbed out of the car, unlocking the back doors as I did so.

“Ellis! Wake up! This is our only chance!” I jerked open the door, and tried to pull him out, but like Carlo, he was strapped in tight. “ELLIS!”

He just mumbled something, and returned to snoring. With no time left, I snapped, “Kelso, come!”

The dog leaped over Ellis and came straight to me, his tail up and ears alert.

“Good boy. Let’s go.” I grabbed his leash but, in doing so, dropped my phone, which bounced under a display stand of various grades of motor oil. I paused for a moment, wanting my phone, but knowing it was more important that I get away. Carlo started shaking his head groggily, which decided for me. We ran for the street; all the while I half expected to hear Carlo bellowing for Giovanni at any moment.

We made it down the block before we heard the sound of an engine roaring and tires squealing. Since we were in a quasi-residential area, I immediately turned off the street, and ran for the side of the nearest house, hoping to get in the backyard before Carlo’s car passed. We didn’t quite make it, but a small waist-high stack of chopped wood provided Kelso and me with cover. We crouched behind and peered around it, watching as the car sped past.

“We’re staying here,” I whispered to Kelso, urging him to lie flat on the ground. “I bet they’ll come back looking for us, and if we try to go, they’ll see us.”

Sure enough, five minutes later, the car crawled past, obviously looking for signs of us. Evidently they didn’t feel the woodpile was suspicious, although they drove by four more times in the next few minutes. I sat cross-legged with my back against the house, and decided to wait a half hour before venturing out.

“I just hope Ellis is OK,” I said softly, stroking Kelso’s head. He gave me his paw, which I gravely shook.

The sun was beginning to set when we finally left our hiding spot. Just as we emerged from the side of the house, a car pulled up and a family of five got out of their car, all of them staring at me.

“Hi,” I said, waving awkwardly as Kelso and I shuffled toward the road. “Sorry, my ... uh ... dog ...” I gestured toward the side of the house just as if that explained everything, and added, “Bonjour! Ça va! A bientôt.” And then I hurried off in the direction of the gas station, where I hoped my phone would still be under the display of oil.