I will stay awake, she vowed to herself. I will.
Down, down, down…
They crashed to the pavement, and he landed on top, but despite that, she was apparently unhurt and only laughed again.
Mark looked up and down the street. Far away, down near Harrah’s, there seemed to be activity. In the other direction, the T-shirt shop next to the hotel apparently never closed. Light was streaming from the door. But there was no one immediately near them.
She started clawing for his throat again, so he put his fingers around hers.
She fought. She struggled.
He used all his strength. All the tactics he had learned. She was unbelievably strong, but finally he felt the snap. He’d broken her neck. She was still looking up at him, but now her head was tilted at a gruesome angle.
“Blood, blood, blood!” she repeated.
There was some discarded construction material lying out by the curb. He kept a grip on her and rolled toward it.
She saw his intent and tried futilely to straighten her head.
Too late. He found a ragged two by four and thrust it into her chest as hard as he could.
From somewhere nearby, a woman screamed in horror. “Murder!”
The girl beneath Mark stared up at him, her eyes growing wide. Her deep gasp sounded like a balloon being deflated. Blood gurgled from her lips as she began to turn black…
And exploded into soot beneath him.
Covered with it, blackened, Mark rose. He heard the wail of a police cruiser in the distance, and he turned and ran, the shadows.
He found one, aware of footsteps pounding behind him as he disappeared into the darkness.
He couldn’t be accused of anything, because she had been old. Very old. There would be no murder charge because there would be no body….
He headed down the street. In the distance, he could still hear the woman screaming about murder.
She could hear a rapping.
No, it was a pounding.
It broke into the deep and dreamless sleep into which Lauren had fallen, curled into the comfortable chair.
She opened her eyes.
Yes, it was pounding. And it was coming from…
The front door.
Her eyes flew open, and she immediately looked over to the bed.
Empty!
Lauren sprang to her feet and raced into the hall, then down the stairs. Deanna was standing at the front door. And it was open.
Hair disheveled, looking barely awake, Stacey—with Bobby at her heels—nearly crashed into Lauren.
“Deanna!” Lauren cried.
As she spoke, a man stumbled in. He was wearing jeans and a
He was covered in blood, and he crashed to the floor in the entryway.
Jonas.
15
M ark thanked God that the city hadn’t changed much. He was able to make his way back into the Quarter easily enough. Once there, he realized what time it was.
Daylight would come soon. He needed to get back to the house on Bourbon Street, steal a few hours of rest and get moving again. It occurred to him that he should be circling the lake looking for Stephan’s lair.
It was a huge lake, so he needed to get started early. If he could just get a little sleep and then get going, he could cover a lot of ground.
It wasn’t yet morning when he arrived at the house, but he felt every muscle tense as he stared up at the beautiful old manor on Bourbon Street.
It was ablaze with light.
He started to run, opened the gate and sprinted for the front door. He was shocked to find it unlocked.
He pushed it open, then frowned as he closed it and looked around the foyer.
They were all there: Big Jim, Bobby, Stacey, Lauren, Heidi—and Deanna. Along with someone else.
Jonas.
The vampire, bare-chested as Stacey washed his wounds, sat in a chair, evidently describing whatever had brought him to his current state. Deanna was seated at his feet, holding his hand, looking up at him with wide and adoring eyes.
