Matters of the Blood (17 page)

My plan was to drive out to the ranch early, do a little snooping myself before I had dinner with Adam. With Carlton out of town for the rest of the day, I could poke around freely. Even if he hurried, it took at least three and a half or so hours to get to Houston, putting him there about noon. Then it would probably take a few hours to get the information he needed. If he left right after he was done, he couldn't be home any sooner than seven or eight. That meant I could go out to the ranch, do a little pre-dinner reconnoitering and not have Carlton mess up my plans by showing up unexpectedly. Planning was a good thing.

When I passed the deli, Boris was in front of the store loading the van. Precise rows of crates and boxes filled the inside. This
had
to be a delivery to the Wild Moon. If I hung out and followed him, I could watch from a distance, see who he talked to. Maybe the infamous mystery man would show up.

Boris loaded the last box and shut the van door. He mopped his forehead with his bandana and placed it back in his pocket. He reached over to fiddle with the door handle as if to check he'd shut it properly, and then walked around the van and peered at each of the tires. He finally pulled keys out of his pocket, got in the driver's seat, and cranked the engine.

We drove through the silent, darkening evening in tandem; me keeping about a quarter of a mile back, trying not to close the distance between us. I wouldn't have followed so closely, but I wasn't completely positive he was heading to the Wild Moon. Sometimes Boris made deliveries to other outlying ranches.

The delivery van slowed as Boris approached the nearly-hidden Wild Moon gate, his speed dropping automatically, with the assurance of someone who made this trip on a regular basis and didn't need to keep an eye out for the tiny sign. Even though I'd been out here just a couple of nights ago, I hadn't realized we were already approaching the entrance. The massive gate opened as Boris punched in a code.

The sun had nearly set, but I didn't want to risk turning on my headlights and alerting him I was there. The night was clear and the moon still almost full, so even without lights, I could see nearly as well as if it were day.

I pulled over to wait on the side of the road to allow Boris to drive through to the main complex; I'd just drive in after. At that point, if he saw me, he wouldn't necessarily jump to the conclusion I'd been following him. Maybe. I wasn't sure why I really cared if he thought that, only that the whole thing was a little sordid. Me following an old man whose only crime was the fact he might possibly know something about my cousin's dealings at the Wild Moon.

I watched as the van's taillights faded beyond the first small rise. The sun had truly set, throwing everything into a weird graying twilight.

I'd always liked this part of the night. It seemed as if you were poised on the edge of something, a promise kept secret by the near dark. You almost lost the ability to see, but enough light still remained to turn even the most mundane shapes of bushes and mesquite trees into living things that hovered on the verge of movement. It was as if, with the right words or proper ritual, they would pull up their roots and slide out of the imprisoning ground.

I'd actually thought I'd seen it once—the trees shifting. But the night had been darker then, as had the company. I missed that feeling. The sensation that the night was endless and so were the possibilities. Maybe once I came into my own power I could experience it again.

I put the car in gear, banishing the mood, and drove forward, punching in the security code Adam had given me.

I drove slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the almost perfect darkness of the ranch property. A few street lamps punctuated the black night, but those pitiful little spots of light did more to accentuate the shadows than to banish them.

There was an odd lack of life around the complex. At most inns and resorts, there were always people around, whether they were walking in between buildings on their way to dinner or to one of the scheduled events that were so common at these places—a movie, a dance, whatever—even just the common hustle and bustle of the staff going about their normal routine. But the Wild Moon was silent, as empty of sound as it was of light. I downshifted and pulled around the side of the main inn, toward the back, where I expected to find Boris.

Abruptly, a group of people appeared, walking across the road about thirty feet in front of me, causing me to slow even more. They all came into the pool of light by the road at once, as if they had materialized from the darkness. Each of them was tall, pale-skinned, and dressed in dark clothes, like refugees from a Goth concert or bad movie. None of them paid any attention to the fact I was there.

I tapped the brakes lightly to stop. The flash of red light seemed to capture the attention of one especially young-looking man with paper-white skin and red-gold hair. He wore a black duster over an equally black shirt and pants. I watched him through the windshield as he came to a stop and turned toward me.

His skin was more than just pale, it was almost translucent in the reflected streetlight, and stretched over fine bones tautly as an artist's canvas over its frame. I couldn't quite make out the color of his deep-set eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about him, something that tickled my memory.

He stared directly at me, as if he could see my face in the dark. He stood with the stillness of a mannequin; the only part of him moving was his long hair, which waved slightly in the night breeze, the ends lightly brushing his shoulders. Behind him, more people walked by, some glancing at the man; some at my car, but none of them stopped.

I stared back, not sure of whether I should honk or move forward or just stay where I was. The man was completely immobile, not a twitch or even a sign of breathing, a mannequin of flesh and bone.

My skin prickled, goose bumps raised on my arms and an odd thrill slid up my back. I felt power and it didn't feel the same as what I'd experienced before when I'd had visions—no overwhelming sensations or disorientation. Instead, I felt an odd expectation. Of what, I couldn't say. But it was as if, somehow, I knew something was coming; something I wanted more than anything else in the world, and it was just around the corner, over the hill, behind the curtain ... I only had to find it. I edged forward in my seat, anticipating.

My jacket suddenly felt oppressive, hot, heavy and binding, but I wasn't able to move to take it off. A drop of sweat slid down the side of my face and down my neck. As it touched my collarbone, my entire body shivered as if an icy finger had slid down my back and caressed the base of my spine.

I tried to reach out, to feel what, who was out there, but it was as if my senses were wrapped around me, held in place like a cocoon, bound to my skin. Someone else was running this party and wasn't letting me dance.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly and then he smiled, flashing white teeth. Bowing quickly, he straightened up, smiled again and licked his lips slowly, wetly, as if savoring a particularly delicious thought.

I gasped. It was as if he'd reached in and grabbed me by the crotch. I could almost feel his hand caressing me; intimate in its knowledge of me, parting the fabric of my jeans and beyond.

As abruptly as it had begun, I was released. Another young man appeared behind the first one. The second man's white-blond hair framed a pale face set off by his black clothing. He laughed and grabbed the first man's arm, leading him away from the pool of light to join the others who were hovering at the edge of seeing.

I sat back in my seat and let out a deep sigh. I'd been gripping the steering wheel so hard it had made dents in my hand. All of my senses seemed expanded a little but not as severely as when I'd had an episode. The low rumble of the engine provided a counterpoint to my heavy breathing. Behind that, I thought I could hear whispers in the darkness. Sounds of shadows, tastes of—

"She's not for you. Mustn't frighten the locals."

I whipped my head around but saw no one. I knew it was the voice of the second man, humor still evident in the words. But where was he? Where were they all? The entire group of people had disappeared into the darkness, vanishing as if they'd not been there at all.

I got out of the car before I could even think. The soft breeze touched my face, bringing the scents of the night with it. But there was no scent of people. Nothing to corroborate what I'd thought I'd seen.

I peered down at the road in front of my car. Even in the dark, I could see that the dirt shoulder didn't show any footprints. There should have been scuff marks or something, some evidence that several people had just walked by.

I rubbed my eyes and stared toward where I'd seen the group vanish. But there was nothing but darkness and the shadowy shapes of trees and bushes sitting silently in the night, undisturbed by the passage of anything more than the night breeze.

Damn it. Either I'd had another hallucination or there were something other than just a couple of vampires hiding out at the Wild Moon. Well, not exactly hiding, more like hiding in plain sight. Ghosts, maybe?

"Miss Keira?"

I jumped, stumbling back against my car. “Boris, sorry, I ... I was distracted."

"What are you doing here?"

"I ... Did you just see a group of people walk by?"

He stared at me, his face expressionless. “There were no people."

Shit. It
had
been a hallucination. This was beginning to suck beyond the telling of it. If I was going to start having visions every time I turned around, I might have to sequester myself in my house for the duration. That wasn't an option I particularly liked. Even a well-appointed prison was still a prison. Besides, there was still the matter of my cousin's death.

"Come around to the dock. It is too dark here. You can sit there for a while."

I nodded and followed Boris around the side of the building. I really did need to sit down before I drove again.

"What's that you're holding?” I asked.

"Protection."

It looked like a cattle prod, but had some sort of extra attachment.

"Looks serious,” I said.

He nodded. “I modified it. Added a taser attachment. Six hundred twenty-five thousand volts. Will take down an angry bear."

"Bear? There aren't any bears here."

"There are plenty of other wild animals."

The store's delivery van was backed up to a loading dock, obviously the rear of the restaurant. There wasn't a soul around. I started to move up beside Boris, when I stumbled and instinctively reached out, grabbing for support. My hand landed on the top of his hand, bare skin to bare skin.

A flash of light seared my eyes and a clap of thunder assaulted my ears. I cringed in the wet of the downpour, shivering in the cold. I huddled next to the person next to me, trying to steal the warmth of his body. But there was none to be had. The man was no longer warm. Corpses don't give off body heat. I cried out loud, peering through the gray twilight, looking for my sister. She'd been next to me when the men had unloaded us from the train, but her hand had been torn from mine and we'd been separated.

A pair of worn black boots appeared in front of me. I looked up blinking the water from my eyes. I cried again, this time with relief. It was the man from the village. His dark hat and high collar hid his features, but I could sense the Other about him, like the Mountain Lords that cared for us at home. I'd seen him before. He'd promised we'd stay safe. He was here to take us back. Not home, because home was only in a place of our memory, but back to the village that was our refuge.

I smiled and reached out, touching his black coat. He looked down at me and smiled back, patting my head with his elegant hand.

A rough voice made the man turn from me.

"Stop wasting time. You've done enough and gotten your money. We have what we need."

I peeked around the man's coat to see a soldier. One of the cursed ones. Blond hair cut close to his scalp, a scar bisecting his left cheek. He held tight to his rifle as if it were a security blanket. Maybe it was. There were more of us than there were of them. But most of us were starving and near dead from the long train journey.

"Sir, sir,” I said, tugging at the man's coat. “You are taking us home?"

The man looked down and me and smiled again, a sad smile on his thin face. “I'm sorry, little one,” he said. “But home is not safe. You'll be staying here now."

I sank to the wet ground as I heard the first screams from the outer building. I knew I was going to die...

"No!” Boris screamed and stepped away from me, eyes wide in disgust. “How did you ... it is foul ... wicked.” He pressed himself up against the side of the van as if for protection.

I shuddered as the vision let go of me and gaped at Boris. “I'm sorry, I can't...” I whispered the words, the horror of what I'd felt still wrapped around me like a filth-encrusted blanket that I couldn't remove. I wanted to wipe my hands on something, clean them off, but the evil was in Boris’ memory and I'd shared his horror.

My body was still standing in the back of the Wild Moon's main restaurant at the loading dock, my emotions and mind still felt the agony of knowing that I was in a death camp, surrounded by enemies and barbed wire, hearing the screams of the victims of hate.

Boris turned from me and fumbled at the van door. “I must leave."

My faculties returned and I stepped forward, hand extended, then quickly drew it back. I couldn't afford to have that happen again. “Wait, I'm sorry, Boris,” I said. “I didn't mean—"

"You have the visions. I saw. You are
chovexani,
witch,” he said as he gave up trying to open the door with shaking hands. He leaned his head against the side of the van, and then turned toward me with a deep sigh. “When I was a boy, my mother saw evil coming. Her people had the gift of farseeing. She was afraid. So she sent us to live with my father's relatives in Germany at the beginning of the war. We were sent there to be out of harm's way."

Inadvertently sent
into
harm's way. Fate really was the mother of all bitches.