Claimed by the Immortal

“Why would we do that?” Caro asked.

“Well, they gave us all eviction notices. Next month, they said.”

“The man who was planning that is dead.”

“I know. Sad thing. His family, too.” The woman shook her head, tsking quietly. “Now, who would want to harm children, I ask. Makes for some very bad juju.”

“It does,” Caro agreed. “No, we were just wondering what folks here were planning to do now. Have you all found someplace to go?”

“Didn’t get a whole lot of notice. Folks are mad.”

“What about you?”

The woman shrugged. “Does it look like I have anything to worry about? I was thinking of moving to Seattle to live with my daughter anyway. This place barely makes the rent every month. You get old, you get set in your ways, but sometimes you have to change.”

“But others are angry?”

“Of course. They’ve lived here all their lives, just as I have. The place may be ugly, but it’s still standing. Can’t figure out why folks need to move. I’m not even sure how you could make this place any better. You looked around the neighborhood? Tell me what high roller would want to live in the middle of this.”

“That’s a good question,” Caro admitted. “But I don’t know what the man’s plans are. I was just disturbed because I figured folks here would be upset by this.”

“Damned upset,” the woman agreed. She peered at Caro. “You some kind of social worker?”

“Of sorts. I’m just trying to figure out how everyone’s handling this.”

“Some is mad, like I said. Some might even want to get even. Kinda late for that, since the man is dead, though. Worst they can do is damage a building that’s going to be blowing up anyway.”

“That could change now,” Caro offered again.

The woman snorted. “Rich men have big companies that keep on even after they die. Not like my little business.”

“I can check into that for you.”

“Won’t make no difference. Somebody did something bad. Imagine killing a whole family like that.” The woman shook her head.

Damien spoke for the first time, and his voice shifted to that timbre that Caro had come to recognize. “Do you know anyone who might be into casting spells to hurt anybody?”

The woman’s eyes glazed. “There’s talk. There’s always talk. But you need a bokor for that. Look for a bokor.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I hear whispers, but they don’t tell me.” She lifted a hand, touching a crucifix that hung around her neck. “No truck with the dark powers. Not me. I value my soul.”

“Any ideas who might be involved?”

“Not me, and I don’t want to know.”

Outside on the street, Damien paused and Caro watched as he closed his eyes. He drew several deep breaths through his nose as if testing the air. Then he astonished her.

Holding out his hand, palm down, he moved his fingers a bit as if feeling the air. Caro’s jaw dropped at what she saw next. There was a sparkle, a faint blue glittering around the ends of his fingers, and she could have sworn she saw a crackle of electricity pass among them.

As soon as he dropped his hand and opened his eyes, she demanded, “What the hell was that? What did you just do?”

“You saw?”

“I saw. Electricity around your fingers.”

“Amazing.”

“Damien!”

He smiled faintly. “Things are coming back to me from my distant past. I was feeling the air for powers, sending out my senses in a quest. That thing is still hovering nearby, but nothing else. Nothing that would lead us to its source. It’s not here. We need to keep looking.”

“So what’s new,” she muttered as she followed him into a deserted alley. He hoisted her on his back, and the crazy roller-coaster ride started all over again.

Now she had to deal with what she had just seen him do, and she had a million questions that were clearly going to have to wait.

Just what kind of powers did he have that he could make sparks like that with his fingertips and be so certain that the source of the evil pursuing her was not there?

Oh, she was going to give him the third degree when she had a minute. A police officer knew how to question.

* * *

Caro’s powers were growing as were his own. Damien could feel it. He wondered if that was because they were both trying, or if it was a growing reaction to the elemental that hovered near her most of the time.

Wondering didn’t change it, however, nor did thinking about it answer the question. Probably a combination of both, he decided.

He was having trouble keeping his focus, though. Having Caro so tightly wound around him was delightful, and although the wind spared him her mesmerizing scents, he picked up a faint whiff every time they stopped. Her blood, her delicious blood, surely the finest of champagnes. Her desire, waves that always seemed to be there, sometimes ebbing but never gone.

The Hunger in him, also never gone, tried to rise and dictate his actions. It wanted him to lay her down on one of those icy building roofs and take her thoroughly and completely, entering her and drinking from her at the same time.

The woman was going to drive him mad.

For centuries he hadn’t really thought about it. Certainly not when he’d lived in Persia and tempting delicacies had come to him willingly, making offerings of themselves. He’d made a kind of peace with the changing times and had learned to find his quarry in ways that harmed no one.

But he’d never really thought about the deep grip of the Hunger on him. How it affected him. How it could cloud his thinking. How it could dominate him.

Mainly because there’d never been a reason before. Now there was, and that reason was Caro. Simply Caro. He thought he’d tested the dimensions of his Hunger before, but he was learning he hadn’t even come close.

Those dimensions were dangerous. Not just because of the possibility of claiming. After all these centuries he had begun to believe that he was immune to that problem, although Caro made him wonder.

No, the danger resided in distraction and inattention. He had to focus on the threat, not on his Hunger for Caro. He didn’t need his instincts clamoring for satisfaction when it might cost her her life. He’d never forgive himself if something went wrong because he failed to control the constant, hammering, throbbing, demanding need he felt for her.

But the Hunger wasn’t entirely amenable to control. He could no more entirely quash it than he could prevent the sleep of death. It was as essential to his existence as food was to any being, and it would not be denied for long.

He could drink gallons of that rotgut Jude purchased from a blood bank, and it would only briefly ease his nature’s demands. Caro roused those demands to heights he couldn’t remember ever having experienced except as a newborn. He wanted her. He wanted her in every way a vampire desired prey, in every way a vampire desired a lover.

Cut it out, he ordered himself as he leaped to a new rooftop. This was not the time. He had Caro’s life to consider.

Wrong time or not, however, with her wrapped around him it was impossible to fully suppress his yearning. So close and yet so far.

It was almost a relief to reach their destination so he could put her down, put even a few inches between them. He was careful to stand upwind so he wouldn’t get a noseful of her enticing scents. Oh, he could still smell