Thank God for entirely small commonplace miracles, because her finder was awake at an odd hour. Again.
“Hi, Barry. It’s Jane.”
“These your new digits, hot stuff?” At least he sounded pleased. “Bounty’s cleared, you should see the transfer tomorrow at the latest.”
It’s already tomorrow.She couldn’t wait to check Jane Smith’s bank balance; a thin warm thread of relief crawled into her chest at the prospect. “That’s good news. You still got that rich nutjob on tap?”
A sound of shifting, creak of his office chair. “Deal hasn’t changed. Hour of your time, he’ll pay, anywhere in the Lower 48. Or hell, he’d probably fly out to Anchorage if you wanted.”
Too good to be true. But ifthatmoney landed, she could maybe settle somewhere, or at least get a better RV and spend her time hitting hospitals for spare blood bags instead of running bounties. Happening across one old-as-fuck vampire was enough. Her luck had been incredibly good up until now, but she was ready to leave the gambling table.
Another benefit to age, she thought—learning to quit while ahead.
“Denver,” she said. “I choose time, he chooses place. 2am, Friday. Send me the location—I’ll be there, but if this is some kind of scam, Barry…” No threat was dire enough, so she simply let the sentence trail away into a warning pause.
“Holyshit.” Now her finder was definitely scrambling, paper fluttering and something falling with a clink. “That’s… okay, that’s two days from now. Right?”
“Yes.” She wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t checked the date as the burner powered up, getting its bearings just like itsnew owner. “I mean it, this had better be as advertised. I don’t have time for bullshit.”
“I promise, Iswear.” He sounded ready to slap his hand on a Bible, if one could be found on the hurricane mess of his desk. “This guy’s legit, he’s funded at least five other crews, including that mad Irish bastard who worked for the Vatican?—”
“I really don’t care, Barry.”I heard O’Shaughnassey met a bad end on the East Coast.Her one interaction with the man and his crew had been unpleasant at best, but then again, word was vampires had killed his entire family.
She didn’t quite blame him for being wary.
Simone’s goal came into view—a hotel on the edge of downtown, right next to the Union Pacific station. An old building, and no doubt ID was mandatory for all check-ins.
Good thing her plans didn’t involve paying for a room. “He gets an hour, I get the moolah,” she continued, her legs tingling as she lengthened her stride. “Set it up, leave a message at this number once it’s confirmed. And, Barry, ol’ buddy ol’ pal? Listen to me.Be smart about this.”
“Come on, Janie. Have I ever let you down?”
We’ve only known each other a few years, my man. You’ve got time.“Get some rest,” she said, and hung up, eyeing the hotel’s brick facade from the entrance of an old movie theater half a block away, its marquee overhead nearly dripping with nostalgia.
No, she didn’t have to pay or show ID. All she had to do was get inside.
CHAPTER 10
Even hadhis memory been consistent, the wanderer suspected he had never before trailed such lovely, nervous, elusive prey. Ruthlessly burning her own home to cinders, leaping aboard a giant metal monster and staying crouched in an exceeding small space for hours, then moving purposefully through a vaguely familiar city, slipping through its cracks and corners—oh, it was a joy to watch her, thrilling to wonder what she would do next, an exercise in control and caution to follow the faint scarf of glorious scent while granting enough distance to avoid her exquisite sensitivity.
Each time he drew too close she hunched those slim, beautiful shoulders and hurried along, doubling back, slipping through the terrain with all the swift decisiveness of a hunted wolf, doing her best to shake pursuit he could not think her fully aware of.
For a fledgling, she was truly exceptional. Then again, she was leman. Not only that, but his blood burned in her veins; another few feedings to further cement the bond and it would be as if he had granted the Dark Gift instead of the Maker who had used her so terribly. The taking of nourishment would becomeeven more pleasant, especially for her as the narcotic effect arrived and became pronounced.
He was momentarily puzzled when she ducked into a building near the throbbing iron pit of the railroad station and its associated tangle of tracks—he remembered, vaguely, having more than once used the steam-snorting conveyances during his madness, moving to new territory when sanguinant instinct demanded. Clinging to the top of a railway carriage was like and unlike riding the petroleum-burning behemoths of this time—now, of course, there were fewer cinders, louder wind-roar, and the constant smell of exhaust instead of coalsmoke.
The night had become old and weary. She did not exit the place; had he finally run his most important prey to ground? Dawn was very near indeed, awareness of the tide-change singing in his own bones along with the thrall.
And, of course, the Thirst. Which could be laid aside for some few hours yet, but so soon as fledgling sleep took her…
As the eastron horizon turned grey he entered the building as well, drifting in mistform. A hotel, and some furnishings were almost,almostfamiliar. Had he hunted here before?
Irrelevant. Her trail led not to the front desk but aside, through a door markedEmployee Only—the concentration necessary to decipher written words was no longer a wrenching effort—and into the non-guest portions. Downward, turning through corridors, sometimes doubling back again, he followed her trail. His admiration grew as he searched; this was a novel tactical choice, though the risk of a stray mortal bumbling across her rest was still unacceptable.
As he felt the sun’s breaching of horizon-line the wanderer coalesced in an old, lightless boiler room, now clearly used for storage. Moldering boxes, tangles of cable, conduit, and pipe, what had to be a modern furnace where once a perfectly respectable coal-fired boiler had crouched—the marks wherethe latter had been taken out were clearly visible to sanguinant vision, even in thick darkness—stacks of wooden crates, discarded furniture, other detritus, a labyrinth holding not a monster but a pearl.
And there, curled in a far back corner, the trophy. She had made herself small as possible, sitting against the wall, knees up and forehead resting upon them, arms braced around her legs. Her hair, still full of night-scent and grassland breeze, lay in shining ripples against hunched, protectively rounded shoulders.
So fragile, so indomitable. She did not belong here, cast amid the refuse; he longed to give her better surroundings, more comfort, and certainly more safety. This was insupportable. He listened to the hotel above, employees bustling while guests drowsed, and thought over his next few moves.
