remote cameras and shut them down. Put electrical tape or duct tape over the lenses if we can’t turn them off. I don’t want anyone salvaging footage for any shows out of this.”
“Or spying on us?” Grant said.
“I didn’t want to say it,” I said.
Conrad was pale, breathing too quickly, on the edge of panic. “But if the power’s out—”
“Batteries,” Jerome said. “They could still be filming.”
“We’ll do that,” Tina said, taking Ariel’s hand and urging her to her feet. “I’ll bet there’s duct tape in the kitchen or toolshed.”
Jerome and Grant paired off to check the generator, Tina and Ariel searched the kitchen for tape, and I kept wracking my brains, wondering what we were missing.
Jeffrey said, softly, “Someone should tell Anastasia and Gemma what happened to Dorian. They should know.”
Well. That was one of the things I’d forgotten. Or didn’t want to think about. I didn’t understand the bond the three of them shared, but I knew it was strong. I knew they’d be hurt. Devastated. I couldn’t guess how they’d react.
“Isn’t it a bad idea, disturbing vampires while they’re sleeping?” Ariel said.
“And how disturbed do you think they’ll be when they realize we’ve gone all day without telling them what happened?” I said.
“I don’t want to do it,” Tina said softly. A couple of the others—Lee, Conrad—looked away, in silent agreement.
“I’ll do it,” I said and went toward the stairs.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t like the idea of walking into the vampires’ secret lair with this news more than anyone else did. But if it had been me, I’d want someone to tell me right away. Not that I knew how I was going to do it.
I opened the door. The stairwell was pitch-dark. My eyes adjusted quickly; enough light bled from the upstairs to let me see, a little. I should have brought a flashlight. Keeping my hand on the wall, I inched my way down, until I felt the stairwell give way to open room.
The room looked like all the other bedrooms, a typical hotel setup with a king-sized bed, a bureau, a desk, a couple of armchairs, and a bathroom. A couple of suitcases stood by the closet. Fully dressed, Anastasia sat at the edge of the bed, facing me. She was ghostly pale, her skin grayish, lips thin, eyes half-lidded. She looked like a wax figure. Like a corpse.
“Something’s happened,” Anastasia said.
I swallowed. My eyes teared up again. “It’s Dorian.”
She bowed her head and nodded. “I could tell. Something woke me—I could just tell.”
“He fell when the porch railing gave way. It looks like… Odysseus thinks it was rigged. Anastasia, I’m so sorry.”
She sat very still. After a long pause, she said, “Stupid, fragile mortals.” A trembling hand wiped her cheek, though nothing was there. She took a deep breath, which was odd, because vampires didn’t need to breathe. They only drew air to speak. But she seemed to need to gather herself. The breath seemed to help her straighten and regain control.
She looked over her shoulder to Gemma, who was asleep, a still, waxen figure under the covers.
“Are you going to wake her up?” I asked.
“No,” Anastasia said. “Let her have a few more hours of peace. She’ll find out soon enough. The railing—you said it was rigged?”
“The power’s gone out, Provost has vanished, and—and part of the crew’s been murdered. The airplane’s sabotaged. We’re isolated here. Worst-case scenario—”
“Conspiracy,” she said. “Someone wishing to get at me would do very well to strike at Dorian. I always kept him close because of that. Do you understand?”
We could all probably agree that some conspiracy was afoot. But it was amazing how different such a conspiracy could look depending on your perspective.
“You think this is all about you?” I said.
“I think someone may be taking advantage of an opportunity, yes. Your magician friend, for instance. He’s taking charge, isn’t he? He’s guiding the actions of the group now.”
I shook my head. “I know him. He doesn’t work like that.”
“Do you know him,
And I couldn’t say that I did.
She turned to look at Gemma again and said, “If you could please leave us alone. We’ll be up at nightfall, as usual. There’s nothing I can do until then.” I turned to leave, when she called. “Kitty. Come nightfall, we’ll have to face the issue of sustenance.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“It doesn’t have to be difficult.”
I couldn’t think about it. We’d have to cross that bridge tonight. “Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She was still sitting at the edge of the bed, unmoving, when I went back upstairs.
I got back to the living room the same time Grant and Jerome did.
“We checked on the generator and batteries,” Jerome said. “The fuel’s been drained and the wiring cut.”
“Someone should go for help. Didn’t someone say that?” Jeffrey said.
The sooner the better, in my opinion. I said, “Jerome and I can travel fast. We won’t have to stop.”
Jerome said, “If we shifted—”
I shook my head. “We need to be conscious and able to speak when we get there. This may be slower, but it’ll be fast enough. If we leave now, we can be there by dusk.”
“But it’s thirty miles!” Conrad said. “That’s impossible.”
“They’re werewolves,” Lee said. “It’s not impossible. I wish we were on the coast. I feel useless here.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” I said. “Use your nose. You can be lookout.”
“We should get going,” Jerome said, already at the door. I went to join him. Hesitating a moment, I took off my shoes and socks. Jerome was already barefoot.
Grant studied me. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
I smiled thinly. “This is simple. We run to the next lodge and call for help. With any luck we’ll be back here by morning.”
“It’s a plan, then,” he said. “Be careful.”
“Likewise.”
We went outside. I could feel the others gathering by the window, watching us. The wreckage of the porch railing still lay scattered on the ground, along with the stain where Dorian’s blood had soaked into the ground. It smelled ripe and rotten in the morning sun, and a few flies buzzed over it. Apart from that, the area was still, quiet.
Jerome wasn’t close to shifting, but something wolfish looked out of his eyes. His breaths came slow and deep, and his attention turned outward, far outward, searching the farthest range of sight and hearing for danger. I knew how he felt—I wanted to get away from here, to run off some of this anxiety.
“You ready to do this?” I said.
“Yeah. You think you can keep up with me?”
“Probably not. But I don’t think anyone should be alone right now.”
His expression turned wry. “You might convince me to start liking this pack thing.”
“I told you, it’s all about having someone watch your back.”
He pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it to the porch. His body was sleek, molded with well-defined, powerful muscles under smooth, dark skin. The guy worked out, but more than that, his body rippled with power. His muscles were natural, hard-earned, and he knew how to use them. He rolled his shoulders, flexed for a moment, then set off, from stop to run.
I bounced, testing my feet against the gravel, feeling earth under me and air around me. Then I set off after him. We took the hiking trail that led from the lodge and to wilderness—thirty miles to the next bit of
