Pray for Dawn (20 page)

“Who? Who was here?” I asked. The flames kept me backed toward the entrance into the tiny room, which was growing unbearably hot. Sweat trickled down from my forehead along my jaw, while my palms grew damp.

“They’re stealing children. I can hear them crying but I can’t find them,” she said, her eyes sweeping over the entire room as she turned in a circle. The barrier she had erected between her emotions and me was beginning to crumble, and I could feel her rage and overwhelming sorrow.

I’ve failed. Oh, god, he’s got her! I’ve failed
, repeated across her brain.

“Who?” I demanded again when she didn’t seem to notice me. “Who are you talking about? The naturi? They’re not here.” Mira didn’t reply to me. In fact, she stared straight ahead and yet I got the feeling that she didn’t actually see me.

Unsure of what to do to finally capture her attention, I reached out mentally, hoping to snap her from her growing inner turmoil.
Has Rowe been here?

Nerian!
She mentally screamed before her gaze snapped over on my face. Mira blinked twice and she slowly lowered her shaking hands to her hips. She looked more than a little lost and confused, as if she couldn’t understand how she came to be standing there encircled with crackling flames. A part of me wondered if she was even aware she had conjured up the flames. Such a skill had been with her even during her human years. I imagined it was now as much a reflex as breathing was for us.

“Danaus.” My name drifted from her lips in a thready whisper. She wiped her cheeks roughly with the heels of her palms before placing the blades back in their individual sheaths at her sides. The flames went out with an audible whoosh, plunging the room back into nearly complete darkness. For a brief moment, she seemed weak and frail, as if the weight of the world were resting on her shoulders and her will were beginning to break.

“What happened?” I demanded, forcefully shoving my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Such a line of thought would lead me nowhere safe. I returned my knife to its sheath and crossed my arms over my chest in an effort to hold in what little heat I had gained from Mira’s brief fire show.

“I—” she began, then suddenly halted as if the words had become lodged in her throat. “I heard crying. A baby crying. I followed it in here. It was so loud, but…no one was here. I don’t…” She trailed off again. I didn’t want her to finish the thought. We let the silence and the night sink back in between us.

“You said Nerian’s name just a second ago,” I said slowly, hating to even mention the creature. The mere sound of his name had the power to send a chill through Mira, as memories of her time with her tormentor rose up to eat away at the remains of her sanity.

“I couldn’t have,” she said with a sharp shake of her head. “It—it doesn’t make any sense.” Mira shoved both her hands through her hair, moving it away from her face as she looked around the room. A soft whimper escaped her as she caught sight of the decades-old bonsai trees that had been reduced to fragile cinders. She clenched her eyes closed and sucked in a steadying breath. She was still, but her emotions were bleeding back into my thoughts. There was nothing calm about Mira. She opened her eyes wide, locking them on my face, as she seemed to beg me for an answer. “The naturi?”

“There are none close by.” I hesitated, but I had to ask. “Can they…can they get in your head?” While it was relatively rare, from my understanding, there were some naturi that could create hallucinations.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. They tried years ago, when they tortured me. They were rather pissed that they couldn’t screw with my thoughts,” she admitted. Her voice suddenly sounded weary, matching her slumped shoulders. “They shouldn’t be able to now. I’m older now, stronger. Nothing’s changed.”

“Except for Aurora.”

Mira looked down at the floor. A shiver of fear ran through her thoughts before she could hide it from me. The queen of the naturi was now free in our world and no one could even begin to guess how it was going to affect how the game was played. Would the naturi grow stronger, more powerful because their queen was finally with them? Maybe. Could the conservatory have been a trap for Mira? Possibly.

Was I grasping at straws? Definitely.

“We should go,” I said at last. Nothing would be gained in sitting around here. We already had a murder to solve. The quandary of a handful of naturi hiding in a greenhouse would have to wait.

Mira nodded, and slowly crossed the distance between us. She was turning toward the door when her eyes suddenly snapped to me. Even in the shadows, I could still make out her furrowed brows and frown.

“What the hell have you been doing?” she demanded.

“I was killing wind clan naturi while you were busy searching for a nonexistent baby,” I growled. I really didn’t need her drawing attention to the fact that I was still wet and half frozen. My only thought at the moment was getting somewhere so I could change into some warm, dry clothes.

“And you found it necessary to swim in the pond?” she continued.

Biting back a snide comment, I stepped around her and left the bonsai exhibit, heading back toward the lobby. My feet squished uncomfortably in my shoes and the rubber soles squeaked across the marble floor now that I was making no effort to be quiet.

I paused in the main lobby and looked over my shoulder at Mira as she stepped through the door. “Should we do something with the naturi?”

“I thought you killed them,” she snapped. Her left hand darted into her jacket pocket and she quickly pulled out her gun.

“They’re dead. I meant the bodies,” I corrected. The nightwalker’s frame instantly relaxed, her arms falling limp at her side. Her face smoothed to placid, unreadable calm.

“I’ll leave a message with the pack leader when I get home. They can clean up the mess before the place opens,” she said, waving off my concern.

I followed her back out the same side door we had come in and to the car. Yet instead of pushing a button to unlock the doors, she popped the trunk. Mira reached in and picked up my bag. I easily caught it when she threw it at me, the steel weapons inside clanging softly.

“Go change,” she commanded.

“What?” I said dully. I thought she was going to tell me to go find a place to spend the daylight hours on my own.

“You’re wet and smell like fish,” she announced, leaning against the side of her car. She folded her arms over her chest and crossed her ankles. “You’re not getting in my car like that. Go change clothes behind a tree. Unless, of course, you want to ride naked.” An evil grin spread across her face and faintly lit her eyes. Yeah, she was bouncing back just fine.

Teeth clenched, I turned on my heel and strode back down the walk, disappearing around the corner behind a large pine tree. I didn’t know if Mira could see me and at the moment I didn’t care. Quickly digging through my duffel bag, I pulled out the first shirt I came across. In a couple quick movements, I peeled off my sodden clothes and pulled on what turned out to be a short-sleeved black shirt, boxers, and jeans. Still barefoot, I shouldered my bag. With my boots in one hand and wet clothes wadded up in the other, I walked back to the car. I was still cold, but it was no longer biting down into my bones. As I appeared, Mira pretended to look down at a nonexistent watch on her bare wrist.

“My, that was quick,” she teased.

“Let’s go,” I grumbled, dropping the wet clothes and bag into the trunk with a heavy thud. I picked up my leather jacket and shrugged into it.

“You could have ridden naked, you know. I wouldn’t mind,” she continued, shutting the trunk. She pulled the remote out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the doors. I tried to ignore Mira’s comments, but it wasn’t the easiest thing. It had been too many years since a woman had last made a pass at me. Most took one look at me and quickly scampered away in fear. I bit back the urge to smile as I pulled open the passenger-side door. Sliding into the car, I pulled on my boots over my bare feet.

Jumping into the car, Mira made a tight U-turn and headed back into downtown. I remained silent, content to watch the lights blur past my window and think about what had occurred since I had landed in the vampire’s domain. I had been accosted by the lycans, attended a First Communion, searched for clues in a dead girl’s apartment before looking over her corpse, interrogated a vampire, and then killed some naturi hiding out in a conservatory. It had been a full night. And the worst of it all was that I still didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. It also didn’t help that Mira was acting strange. Despite her occasional quip and sarcastic remark, she was more reserved than usual.

Mira parked her car on the street in front of the three-story town house I had stayed in the last time I had been in town. Popping open the trunk, she grabbed one of my bags and tossed me my ball of wet clothes before handing me my second bag of weapons. I followed her up the stairs and onto the porch where she unlocked the door and gave it a little shove open with her foot.

“You can stay here while you’re in town,” she said.

“I can just as easily maintain my room at the hotel with James,” I reminded her.

“We discussed this,” Mira said with an irritated sigh. “You’re likely to run across fewer problems while you’re staying in town if you’re at my residence.” Any comment I would have made was cut off by her slamming the door behind me. My only concern was that maybe I didn’t like the signal it was sending to everyone within her domain. It certainly didn’t help my reputation as a ruthless vampire hunter.

The town house was still the same elegant yet functional place that I remembered, with its mix of marble and dark hardwoods. On the right side of the hall was the parlor with a comfortable leather sofa and a mix of older high-backed chairs settled around a dark wood coffee table. The walls were lined with paintings. They were all modern pieces, realistic paintings of people. Nearly all of the paintings were of women alone. Their faces were mostly hidden or limited to just a glimpse of their profile. Yet there was something in the way those women held their sinuous frames that implied that the artist had caught them in a moment of deep contemplation, a second in time where their individual futures hung by a slender thread.

Frowning, I followed Mira through the adjoining dining room, with its large table, into the kitchen. It was decorated in various shades of dark blue, steel gray, and black, from the marble countertops to the appliances, which I seriously doubted had ever been used. Everything about this room was dark and cold, threatening to swamp anyone who dared to enter the room.

The nightwalker paused for a moment as if in thought, then jerked open one of the drawers by the sink. Grabbing a set of keys, she tossed them to me and motioned for me to precede her back into the living room.

“Those keys are to the town house and to the red Lexus parked around the block,” she said, leading me back to the only hallway off the living room. Tromping up the stairs, she stopped in the first bedroom off to the right and dropped my duffel bag at the foot of the king-sized sleigh bed made of dark cherry. In here, the colors were a combination of deep burgundy and dark gray, except for the carpet, which was as black as night. Even the various lamps that were scattered about failed to pierce the darkness that pervaded the room.

“I expect that you’ll find this place comfortable enough again,” she announced to the air. Her eyes skimmed the room for a moment, as if taking in her surroundings for the first time. All the paintings in the bedroom were abstracts with the same color scheme as the room. “If you make a mess, you have to clean it up. I don’t currently have a cleaning service.”

“Yes, it must be difficult to find someone who can get out the bloodstains,” I muttered.

Mira chuckled softly. “First rule of being a vampire: never eat where you sleep,” she said lightly. “If something were to happen that prevented you from wiping your prey’s memory, he or she would know your resting place.”

“But you’ve never slept here, have you?” I guessed. The question wiped the smile from Mira’s face and she stared at me silently for a couple of seconds. The only sound that could be heard was the soft hum of the heater pumping warm air into the town house.

“No,” she admitted at last. “I don’t sleep here. Never have.” Mira stepped around me and walked back down into the living room. I shed my jacket and tossed it onto the bed before I followed her. She stood in front of the large windows that looked out onto the nearby square with its enormous live oak trees, their arms stretched out to encompass the entire park. The streets were nearly barren of people, leaving the traffic lights to go vainly through their cycles without anyone to pay them heed.

I stood behind the sofa, watching Mira for a minute. Her arms were folded under her breasts, and her shoulder was propped against the glass. I could see only her profile, but her expression was blank of emotion. In that moment, she was human to me. There was nothing other about her, nothing to expose her for the dark threat that she was. For the single breath, she was just a woman weighed down by the world that she existed in.

It was when I was precariously balanced in that moment of forgetfulness that I hated her the most. I loathed the fact that she could lull me into sympathizing with her. It was locked in those silent seconds of weakness that all my hopes of regaining possession of my soul were threatened.

“Have you always lived like this?” I suddenly demanded, trying to redirect my thoughts from the way the light from one of the nearby lamps fell across her cheek, highlighting her high cheekbones. Her gaze drifted back to me. Her expression remained carefully blank and the current of concern running through her seemed to quiet, as if she was battening down ahead of a storm.

“Like what?”

“This,” I repeated, throwing out my arms to encompass the opulent town house. “Do you have any concept of what it means to be poor?”

One corner of Mira’s mouth quirked in a surprised grin. She pushed off the window and turned to fully face me, her hands slipping into her jean pockets. “I was born in a two-room house with a leaky thatched roof. In the summer, I slept in the stable with our one horse and sheep. In the winter, I slept on the floor in front of the fireplace or snuggled with my parents in our one bed. I never expected to have any better than that.”