They Come by Night (57 page)

“Mina!” She offered the cops a smile. “She’s very protective of Ty.”

One of the cops grinned at her. “I can see she’s a real killer.”

The other cops laughed at his joke. It was a good thing they thought it was a joke.

“What can you tell me?” she asked.

Apparently it wasn’t much more than they’d told her on the phone.

“…and we can’t figure out why the car won’t start, so we’ll have it towed to the Pritchert Garage. What about your friend? Is it likely he’d take off like this?”

“No. He’s very responsible.”

The cop who called Mina a killer handed Ekaterina a business card. “No one we’ve spoken to has seen anything, but the supermarket has surveillance cameras, and we’ll check the feed.”

Henry and Thomas returned to her side, and she could tell they hadn’t succeeded in coming up with anything that might help them.

“Kat.” William nodded toward Mina.

The dog had her paws up against the driver’s door, extending her head as far as she could. Then she dropped to all fours, darted to the rear of the car, and began to sniff around the exhaust pipes.

“Get the dog, would you, miss? We’re going to take the car now.”

“Mina.” Fortunately, the
Înger Păzitor
came to her. “Thank you,” Ekaterina said to the cops. “We’ll leave you to your investigating.”

Once they were back in the car, William asked, “Mina knows something?”

“Yes. I don’t know what, but….” The dog was so small and looked so innocuous. Once again, Ekaterina turned on the ignition. “All right, Mina. Which way?”

I
T WAS almost sunset when they arrived in Mifflin, and from the dog’s reaction, they knew Ty was nearby.

Ekaterina let the car roll to a stop at the curb and turned to Thomas. “Call Luke. Tell him he’s needed here. Henry, take the—”

William swore. The dog had been lying on his lap, tense but contained, but now she rose to her feet, her gaze fastened on the dilapidated house beyond the shrubs that bordered the land around it. A low growl spilled from deep in her throat. She seemed to be growing larger and larger.

In the backseat, Thomas spoke in quick, quiet tones into his cell phone. Beside him, Henry lowered the portion of the backseat that folded down into an armrest and reached through the opening for the stakes stored in the trunk.

“Kat….” William’s voice was tight with pain, and he shifted in an attempt to get the dog’s paw off his lap.

“Open the door. Let her go.” She gave her brother a smile that held no amusement at all. “Hell is about to come to dinner.”

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN
:
C
OME
G
O
W
ITH
M
E

T
HE ROOM I woke up in was dark and silent. Where was I? How long had I been here?

And oh God, what was wrong with me?

I lay on my back, hoping my eyes would grow accustomed to the lack of light and I’d be able to see something.

My shoulders ached, the skin above my cheekbone felt as if it were on fire, and the crotch of my jeans felt damp and reeked of urine. Mixed with a sweetish smell that was vaguely familiar was the sour odor of vomit all over my sweatshirt. My stomach roiled and heaved and saliva flooded my mouth. If I threw up in the position I was in, I could inhale the vomit and suffocate on it.

I hadn’t been sick since I was little and we’d realized my digestive problems were caused by lactose intolerance, and I hated this feeling.

My teeth chattered, and I shivered so hard I thought my bones would shatter.

What’s wrong with me?

I swallowed desperately and tried to turn on my side.

Why can’t I move?

And then I realized… my arms were tied behind my back.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from throwing up, but I managed to angle myself onto my right shoulder and turn my head. Not much more than a little bile came out, but I gagged and retched and whimpered.

“Hush, little sir,” a female voice, the warmth of Spain in it, whispered in my ear, and I nearly pissed myself again. I’d thought I was alone. Fingers—hers?—were on my wrists.

“Please….” I swallowed and grimaced at the burning sensation in my wrists. “Don’t touch me.”

“I must.” She wiped my mouth with a soft piece of cloth, then returned to whatever she was doing to my wrists. “Matthew tied your hands behind your back.”

“Matthew?” I remembered Lucy stalling out. I remembered getting out of the car to stand next to my brother and stare into the engine with no idea what I was looking at. I remembered that sweetish smell and…. “Why would he do that?”

“He obeys
el duque
, as we all do.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about de Vivar.”

“I’m sorry… but I am.”

I groaned, and then groaned again, this time in relief when the pressure on my shoulders eased as whatever bound my hands was released. I slumped over on my front and bit back another whimper.

“Hush,” she murmured again. “We must act quickly. I know you prefer not to be touched, but you must let me….” She angled her arm across my waist, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning at the contact that burned even through my sweatshirt. She dragged me backward and propped me against a wall. “I will help you as much as I can.”

“Why are you doing this?” I blinked a couple of times, finally able to see farther than the end of my nose, thanks to the faint beams of light that filtered through what must have been planks of wood nailed across the windows.

“What
el duque
would do is an abomination.” She untied my legs—how had I not known they had been tied as well?—but left the ropes tucked around them so they still appeared to be confined. “He’ll be here soon. We don’t want him to know you’re free. Whatever we can do to give you an advantage….” She brushed long black hair off her face.

“Who are you? Why do I feel I know you from somewhere?” I reached for the front of my sweatshirt, grimacing at the crusted mess I encountered. But beneath it I could feel the slim shape of the vial of holy water, as well as my half of the mizpah, and I blew out a thankful breath.

“I am Antonia Baca.
El duque
sent me to you some months ago. Keep your arms behind you, please, señor.”

I remembered now. She was the one who hadn’t intended to drink my blood—she’d wanted to suck my dick. “I… uh… I never heard of a vampyr who fed that way.” In spite of how cold I was, my cheeks felt hot.

“When de Vivar turned me, he was… enjoying me at the same time.”

“You mean you were—” I bit off “having sex.” If she’d deliberately chosen to use that old-fashioned phrase, then I wasn’t going to embarrass her. I cleared my throat and winced at how sore it felt. “You were saying?”

“For more than five centuries, I’ve been cursed to survive in this manner.”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Possibly. If a sabor permitted me to sip from him.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’d help you if I could—”

“I’m not one you would ever love.” She said the words simply: that was the way it was.

“I was about to say I recently fed a vampyr, and it will be another two months before I can feed another.”

“
Dios mío
, he will be furious to learn of this!”

“Do you have a knife I could borrow?”

“Why?”

“I need to clean my fingernails,” I lied.

“I’m sorry. I have no need for such a weapon.” She turned her head, and her voice suddenly grew cold and hard. “You will not approach him.”

“Huh?” I followed her gaze cautiously and spotted five other vampyrs who came out of the shadows. They looked hungry, and I understood why Antonia ordered them away from me.

“Yes.” A seventh appeared—de Vivar—and my stomach turned over. “The sabor is mine.”

That was a bunch of bull. He could say that as much as he liked; I was
not
his.

“Miguel, where is the other one?” De Vivar stroked a knuckle over his pencil-thin mustache, smoothing the gray hairs. Hadn’t they been darker the first time I’d seen him?

Wait… he had another sabor here?

“
Maestro
, he is there.” Miguel pointed to the right of where I sat against the wall.

Oh God, it was Matthew! My brother was sprawled on the floor, his head twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Explain yourself, Miguel. I had plans for that young man.”

“I had to retrieve him.”

“
What
?”

“He was not here when I rose, so I went to fetch him.”

“He was supposed to….” De Vivar frowned. “He’s dead.”

“He struggled.” Miguel shrugged. “I thought to simply teach him a lesson.”

“Never mind.” De Vivar waved aside what had happened to my brother as if it wasn’t important. He turned to me, and my mouth went dry. “This is the one I want. All of you, leave!”

“God be with you,
mi señor
,” Antonia whispered.

De Vivar waited until we were alone… except for the body of my brother… and then he came toward me.

“You smell abominable.”

“Sorry. I’d be more than happy to go home and take a bath.” I might as well have kept my mouth shut.

“You should have welcomed me when I arrived at your home. You would have been a favored pet, and things would have gone better for you. Now….”

“No.”

“…now you won’t survive this night.” He was reaching for me, and that brought him up short. “What do you mean,
no
? You might have been able to deny me at your home, but now you cannot. You’re in
my
home! You must love me.”

“No,” I said again and tried to push myself back, but I couldn’t go anywhere: I was flush against the wall.

De Vivar glared and lunged at me, and I thrust out my hand in an attempt to keep him away from me… to keep those fangs, those glittering white fangs that dripped almost as if venom leaked from the tips, away from me.

I hit his chest, and he grunted and abruptly shied back.

“My talisman!” He stared down at himself and then back at me, and he began swearing in Spanish. I tried to back away again—the look in his eyes was insane—but with the wall at my back, I wasn’t going anywhere. “Do you know what you’ve done? I’ll have to send Miguel to Málaga to retrieve more soil—Why am I even discussing this with you? You will submit to me!”

“I told you no. I don’t love you, and I’ll kill myself before I let you sink your fangs into me!”

“That won’t be necessary,” he snarled. His eyes glowed red. “I’ll kill you myself and drain your miserable carcass!”

Somewhere in the night, a dog was barking. I ignored it and reached for the vial of holy water, but de Vivar was on me before I could pull the stopper out. As a last resort I slammed the vial against his cheek, and the glass shattered.

“My face!” he howled. “What have you done?” As with the vampyrs at the rest area, smoke rose from his cheek as the holy water ate away at the flesh.

I tried to edge around him, but he wheeled back to face me.

“You… you will pay for this!” He dropped his hands to his waistband and undid the fly of his trousers. I remembered what he’d done to Uncle Phil. “I’ll teach you to defy me!” His words were starting to slur as his cheek melted away to reveal his teeth. “I’m going to fuck you and drain you dry. When you reanimate tomorrow evening, you’ll belong to me—I’ll control you, body and whatever soul you might have. You’ll never taste the richness of a normal’s blood.” He bared his teeth in a death’s mask of a grin, and more flesh vanished, this time around his eye socket. “You’ll feed on insects… cockroaches and worms and lick the shit from my boots—”

A window shattered, and in spite of the fact I knew I should keep my eyes on de Vivar, I had to look. Glass and splintered wood rained down, and in the midst….

I’d never seen an animal like this before. She was huge, even larger than a Neapolitan mastiff, but with a thick brown-and-white coat. Ribbons of slobber dripped from her massive jaws, which were parted to reveal teeth even whiter and sharper than de Vivar’s.

The breaking glass—along with growls I’d swear sounded familiar—had diverted De Vivar’s attention from me, and he’d wheeled to face her.

“¡
Madre de Dios
!” Those were the last words he spoke. The animal launched herself at him, snapping her jaws closed around his neck. There was a sickening crunch, and when she shook her head, she separated de Vivar’s head from his body.

I stared, horrified, as he blinked one eye frantically—the other eyelid was gone, and the eye itself hung on its stalk against his denuded cheek. His lips parted as if he was going to speak… or scream… but nothing came out. Slowly the light of awareness faded from his lone eye.

“Well.” I swallowed a couple of times and then cleared my throat. I hoped she wasn’t going to tear my head off too. “Uh… thank you?”

She ran her tongue over her muzzle and wrinkled it as if the taste of de Vivar’s blood didn’t please her. She took a step toward me and whimpered when she nearly went down. There was a trail of blood behind her, and I realized she must have cut her leg going through the window.

“Will you let me see that?” I held out my right hand, startled to see it covered in blood. How…? Oh, yeah. When I’d broken the glass vial against de Vivar’s cheek.

She limped to me, licked my cheek, and dropped down onto my lap.

“
Oof
!” Fortunately she hadn’t landed on anything important. I took her leg. A flap of skin dangled from it, and I fit it back in place. “I hope I’m not hurting you.” I squeezed gently, hoping to stop the bleeding. “We need to get you to a vet.”

Blood seeped through my fingers—her blood and mine—and she licked it off. “Woof.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

A door banged open somewhere in the house, and I looked around for something I could use as a weapon. Maybe I could tear off one of de Vivar’s arms and use it as a club?

Only all that was left of de Vivar was a pile of ashes.