“For the love of God,” she whispered, and she grabbed the outside of the screen, her face coming closer to the camera. Followed by a crash and the screen showing the ceiling of her office.
“Mom?” I asked. “Is that a yes?” No answer. “
“Alexis? Are you still there?” came her voice.
“Sophia?” Winston said, his eyes darting around the room to identify the source of her voice. “Sophia! Is that you?”
“Call me back on my phone,” Mom whispered, and then I saw her hand reach across the screen and disconnect our call.
I slipped out of the room and called her on the phone, figuring she wanted more privacy than FaceTime gave us.
“Where in the hell did you find this guy, and who does he think he is?” Mom demanded with a rancor I rarely heard from her.
“Um . . . well, we found him buried in a foundation of an old bank,” I said, and I told her the story. She remained so silent when I finished, I thought I’d lost the connection. “Mom?”
“Nineteen-thirteen, you said?”
“Yes, that’s what Terry told us. The foundation was poured in 1913 and the building finished in 1915.”
“Impossible,” Mom gasped. “He died in December 1911.”
“I did
“What are you talking about, Mom?” I asked as I walked toward the basement steps, as far from the vampire as possible. “Who is this guy?”
Again she didn’t answer for a long moment.
“I’m on my way,” she finally said instead of answering me.
“
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I believe the new jet is here and available, and if it’s not, I’ll make it that way.”
“Mom, you’re talking crazy. You don’t need to come all the way over here.”
“Yes, I do! I’ll be there soon. Just . . . try to keep him calm in the meantime. Don’t let him leave!”
“Who is he?” I asked again. “What does he mean to
She blew out a breath, and her voice came out shaky, as though she wasn’t quite sure she believed her own words. I nearly dropped the phone when she said them.
“If he’s really who he says he is . . . Winston was my husband, honey.”
“Your
“I’ll explain when I get there,” she said, and the call fell silent. I looked at the phone screen: she’d hung up.
I tapped the phone against my chin, wracking my brain for any mention of a Winston or a husband. The only marriage I knew about was with her true love, a story she’d disclosed only a few years ago. What was his name? Otto? Orville? Something like that. Not even close to Winston.
“Sophia!” The vampire’s voice grew louder and more demanding.
I crossed over to the door and had barely entered the room and opened my mouth when his blue eyes darted to me and turned bright red as they filled with rage.
“Who are you? What did you do to my Sophia?” he demanded. Without a thought to warn me, he sprang from his wooden box and suddenly stood in front of me, the blood already building his strength. He was nearly as tall and as broad as Tristan. His large hands clamped on my shoulders, and he lifted me off the ground. His nostrils flared, and he dipped forward, his nose at my throat, where my pulse thumped excitedly. He inhaled deeply, and then hissed, “Amadis.”
He pulled back enough to look at my face, studying it as though trying to determine if I were really my mother. His fangs slipped out from under his upper lip, which curled up in a snarl. Hunger and desire filled his eyes. The need to drink consumed his mind. His mouth opened wide with the thought of diving for my throat, so I shot electricity at him.
Tristan or Charlotte—or both, and maybe Terry, too—must have acted at the same time. I suddenly stood on my feet again, and the vampire was in the center of the room, his arms stretched over his head and his wrists and ankles in shackles. His eyes widened as they scanned the room.
“You Amadis whores,” he bellowed. “I should have known!” His gaze fell on Tristan. “Not you. I
When Tristan refused, the vampire became more irate. His eyes remained a frightening red. He threw his body back and forth and side to side, trying to free himself from the silver chains. When we attempted to ask him questions or to explain what had happened to him, he yelled and hollered more profanities at us. I opened my mind to discover the same anger and blasphemies running through his head.
“That’s enough,” Tristan growled, paralyzing him so we wouldn’t have to listen to the clank and rattle of the chains any longer. “Charlotte, muffle the room. I’m done listening to this.”
He grabbed my hand and left the room, pulling me all the way up the stairs with him. His jaw muscle twitched as he sat at the kitchen table with his fists in front of him. I found a bottle of beer in the refrigerator, cracked it open, and pulled a few swigs before giving him the rest. He downed it in one gulp.
“If Sophia hadn’t said what she did, I’d have hurt him a lot worse for his rude behavior toward you, and for how he treated Char and Terry, too,” Tristan finally said.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and squeezed, then rubbed his back. “For a British man of his time, you would have thought he’d be more of a gentleman.”
Tristan let out a harrumph. “He’s Daemoni. What do you expect? He’s lucky I didn’t kill him, because killing a Daemoni is all I’ve wanted to do since Dorian disappeared. He just needs to give me an excuse.”
I leaned over, wrapped my arms around him, and rested my chin on his shoulder. “As much as I’ve wanted to murder them, too, you know this vamp has nothing to do with Dorian’s kidnapping.”
He didn’t reply for a long moment. I hugged him tighter and pressed my lips against his neck until he finally relaxed under my hold. He lifted his hand to my wrists under his chin and gave them a squeeze.
“Look at you, talking me down,” he said. “That’s a switch.”
“We’re a team,” I murmured in his ear. “If we don’t have each other’s backs, then who will?”
He reached around and pulled me into his lap, but as soon as I was comfortable against his chest, Charlotte and Terry entered the kitchen. Worry lines creased Char’s forehead.
“How am I not surprised this is the kind of man your mother would fall for?” she said after she grabbed a beer for herself and sat across the table from us.
Terry poured herself a glass of wine and brought a beer each for Tristan and me before joining us at the table.
“I didn’t even know about him,” I admitted, and I asked Char, “Do you think he’s the real deal?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I wasn’t assigned to protect your mother when she’d been with Winston, so I only know what she’s told me about him. Like the fact that he died from cancer. So I can’t say if this bloke is him or not. All I
“Vanessa’s idea of finding a fresh foundation is sounding better and better, isn’t it?” I finished.
Charlotte and Tristan both lifted their beers to clink with mine.
“Where is he?” Mom demanded as soon as she entered the safe house a few hours later, Charlotte right behind her. Char had picked her up at the airport since she couldn’t flash, and she’d needed a protector’s escort.
