Chapter Thirty-seven

Raj took surface streets back to the warehouse, breaking the speed limit all the way, skimming through stop signs and tearing around corners, not slowing until he was turning into the warehouse lot. Sarah's little sedan was sitting at one end of the parking lot and he frowned, not sure he was happy to see it there. She didn't need her car. What she needed was to stay put until he was sure it was safe for her to be out on the streets. Right, he scoffed privately. Like she's any safer in here with you.

He shook his head in disgust. He'd practically attacked her back at the bar. She'd been standing there giving him hell like she always did and something in him had just snapped. He tried to blame it on hunger. He hadn't fed properly in days; the bagged blood was good in a pinch, but he needed more. He wanted more. What he wanted was Sarah, and he wanted her in the worse way, hell, in every way.

He parked beside the front entrance and Sarah immediately opened her door, all but jumping from the car, clearly eager to get away from him. Smart girl. He followed, striding around to unlock the warehouse door, pulling it open and holding it while she stepped past him. He pushed open the interior door before she could get to it, holding that for her as well. Sarah gave him a silent nod of thanks and went directly for the stairs to the mezzanine.

"Sarah,” he called softly, unable to bear the silence any longer. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, her back to him, head bowed. “I didn't mean,” he began. “That is . . . Look, I'll probably be back too late tonight, but I'll be here tomorrow and we'll—"

She turned to face him, her hazel eyes dark and flat, the gold flecks all but invisible. “Don't worry about it,” she said dismissively. “I'm fine.” She turned away and began climbing the stairs. “I'm always fine,” she said in words soft enough that if he'd been human he wouldn't have heard them. It troubled him and he took the first step to follow her, but his phone chose that moment to ring once again, echoing in the still warehouse.

"What?” he demanded.

"My lord,” Em said in a tight voice. “I don't know how long—"

"I'm there in five minutes, Em. No one does anything—"

"I'm holding them, my lord, but I don't know how much longer—"

"No one goddamn moves before I get there,” he snarled. He slammed his phone into his pocket and was already running out of the warehouse and into the car with the inhuman speed of his vampire blood.

Some part of Sarah heard Raj leave, aware there was trouble somewhere. That same part of her hoped no one got hurt, least of all Emelie, or even Raj. But most of her thoughts were on something completely different. She'd seen her car out front and wondered if they'd left her keys. Not that it mattered. She had a second set tucked into her purse, a backup she'd started carrying the first time she locked her keys in her car two years ago and decided the spare did her no good sitting at home in her desk when she was miles away. She walked down the mezzanine toward her temporary quarters, feeling the uneven tread of the metal surface beneath her feet, half-listening to the sounds of some sporting event drifting over from the living area where a couple of human guards were hanging in front of the big screen. His vamps, she supposed, were all out doing whatever it was they did in the middle of the night. She checked her watch. It was a few minutes before one a.m.

She pushed into the room, automatically checking to be sure everything was the way she'd left it. Control freak that she was, she knew the order of her rooms down to the placement of every pencil and pen. Linda had teased her mercilessly about it, but then Linda didn't understand. No one did. Once your life had been taken from you, your every moment given into the hands of strangers with clipboards and bureaucratic eyes . . . When you finally got it back, when your life was yours again, every moment, every detail, became important.

A quick survey of the small space told her that her laptop was where she'd left it, along with the few things she'd managed to stuff into her duffle before hurrying away from the duplex . . . not even two days ago? It felt like much longer than that. It didn't seem right that her entire world could be turned upside down in such a short time.

She pulled her duffle from under the bed and began repacking it, inventorying what she had, making a mental checklist of what she'd need to buy, matching it against her money. She'd have to stop at an ATM on her way out of town, and then first chance she got, she'd withdraw the entire amount through one of their brick and mortar locations. She'd pay an early fee for that, which seemed unfair, but at least she'd have all of it in cash, with no way for anyone to use the accounts to find her.

Shouldering her duffle and her laptop case, she checked the room one last time and slipped out to the mezzanine, closing the door behind her. The guards over by the TV looked up, and she thought at first they'd try to stop her, but she waved cheerfully, like it was no big deal and they relaxed. Holding her breath, she pulled open first one door and then the next, walked over to her car, beeped it open, threw her stuff inside and drove away. She didn't know where she'd go eventually, but she knew her first stop.

Raj might think this case had become too dangerous for her, but he didn't understand. The real danger was for Trish and whoever else was still being held by the vampires who'd thrown Regina away like yesterday's trash. And regardless of what Raj might think, Sarah wasn't running away this time.

As she drove through the sparse traffic, she flicked through her cell phone's call log until she found Jennifer Stewart's number again. It was way too late for Professor Stratton to be calling a student, but since Sarah wouldn't be a professor or a Stratton much longer, it didn't matter.

Jen's peppy voice answered. Sarah could hear music and laughter in the background and thought about how lovely it must be to be eighteen and carefree. Apparently, Trish's continued absence wasn't exactly weighing on her roommate's mind.

"Jennifer,” Sarah said, “Hi, this is Sarah Stratton, Professor Stratton?"

"Oh yeah,” Jen said, obviously confused and not terribly thrilled by the late-night call. “Hi, Professor Stratton."

"I just have a quick question, Jen. Raj asked me to call.” Okay, so it was a lie—a small, very white lie.

"Sure!” Jen's enthusiasm ratcheted up about a thousand notches. “Anything I can do!"

"Thanks, Jen. Listen, you were telling Raj about that blood house you visited, but there're a couple of them in that area, and we want to be sure we have the right one."

"Sure, I understand. It's that one in East Amherst, kind of a funky pointed house with a way disco vibe going inside. Totally old school."

"Mmhmm,” Sarah murmured. “Do you know the street?"

"Oh, let me think. I didn't drive and you know how it is."

"It's important, Jen,” Sarah said absently, driving past her old duplex. “We're very close and it could help us find Trish.” A little guilt never hurt.

"Oh, man. Trish. Yeah. Let's see, Evergreen or something Christmasy. Alpine! That was it. It was on Alpine, right off Stahley. I remember that ‘cuz one of my friends has that last name and I asked her if it was like her grandfather or something, but she said no."

Sarah figured between that and an online map, she could find the place. If worse came to worst, she'd just drive up and down the street looking for a pointed house with lots of people going in and out.

"Thanks, Jen. That really helps. And sorry for calling so late."

"Hey, no problem, Professor Stratton. It's spring break, ya know?"

"Right. Party on, Jen."

"Uh. Okay. Bye."

By that time, Sarah had pulled around and parked in the unlit alley behind her duplex. The front had been completely dark, suggesting Mrs. M. was either already asleep or still at her son's house. Sarah hoped it was the latter because the woman had ears like a bat.

She hurried through the gate and across the dried grass of the back yard to her kitchen entrance, inserting the key and pulling open the door as quietly as possible. Setting her laptop on the table, she turned it on and then tiptoed up the stairs to her bedroom in search of something to wear. She didn't know what the dress code was at a blood house, but it probably wasn't jeans and a tee. And if she hoped to get any information, she was going to have to blend in.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Raj slid to a tire-squealing stop outside Krystof's. He left the engine running, threw open his door and stormed across the street to where Emelie and three others were gathered, his power thrumming around him like an electrical current, his eyes as bright as sun through glacial ice.

All of his vampires, even Emelie, fell to their knees at his approach.

"Get up and tell me what the fuck is going on."

Em stood gracefully, assuming a parade rest position, hands crossed behind her, shoulders back. She raised her eyes briefly to his, but quickly lowered them. “My lord,” she started. “We were doing our usual rounds. Four teams, hitting each house for a while and moving on. I was with Abel when I got a call from someone using Simon's cell phone."

"Where was Simon supposed to be?"

"He was at the warehouse, my lord, but he'd called earlier to say he was going for electronic supplies of some sort."

"Who called you?"

"The caller didn't identify himself, my lord, just said if I wanted Simon back alive, I'd better find you and get you over here in the next half hour. That was . . .” She checked her watch. “Forty minutes ago, my lord."

He didn't hear any judgment in Emelie's voice. He didn't have to. He'd been humping Sarah in the parking lot while someone was kidnapping Simon out from under his nose.

"I called you first, of course,” Emelie continued. “And then Abel and I came directly here, along with Danny and Cervantes.” She nodded at the other vamps. I called the rest of the teams and sent them back to the warehouse in case this was some sort of a setup to pull everyone away."