Page 61 of Vameer

The line is silent for a long second before he speaks again. “What were the keywords?”

I look back up at the screen. “Vampire, cave, hibernate, and warrior. That’s all I⁠—”

“Fuck!” The shout makes me pull the phone away from my ear. “Fucking shit!” Even with the speaker a foot away, I can still hear him cursing. “As if we’re not in enough fucking trouble. Fucking fuck!”

When the yelling trails off, I put the phone back to my ear.

He exhales loudly, then speaks at his previous volume. “Who?”

“Um…” I open the tracking program that started running the moment the alert went off. “It was searched using library Wi-Fi in New York state…” I search for the secondary hit. “But the computer belongs to a Rune Destin.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

I click over to a different program and quickly scan the data. “Turned thirty… yesterday. Rents a place in Upstate New York, been there less than a year. Not much debt, no car, no student loans, not much income either. Parents live in… Costa Rica.” My eyes run over the rest of the information on the screen. “She’s a nobody, sir. A nomad with no career by the looks of it.”

“Don’t underestimate the target,” he snaps.

“Target?” My brows furrow.

“Send everything you have on her to this number,” the man demands. Then he hangs up.

Chapter 23

Vameer

My bare feet land silently on the cracked blacktop, and for the first time in a long time, I stand in the United States of America.

I read about the last century. Had an idea what to expect. And this is about right.

Reaching up, I pull my hair over my shoulders, then I pull the hood of my robe up until it bumps into my horns.

It might not be necessary since it’s still before dawn and dark out. But it does help to create more shadows around my face. And people might know about vampires, but they don’t know about me.

Always ready, my gravito shifts to fill every inch of my body, pressing out against my skin.

I start down the sidewalk. Few heartbeats are present here. On the outskirts of a town, just north of the Gulf of Mexico.

The buildings are low. Run down. Windows are barred.

I pass a parking lot with a fire burning inside a metal barrel, two men seated near it, watching me. But I keep my attention forward.

I’m not here to interact. I’m here to breathe. To feel.

I’ve felt her, felt her heartbeat, sensed her emotions as I traveled. And I know I’m going in the right direction. But I need a hint. I need to feel more of her.

I keep walking until I stop in front of the next building.

It’s abandoned, with cracked windows. And it’s not a mirror. But it’s a reflection.

Maybe that will work.

I stare at it. At myself. And I will my mate to feel me.

“Mon Coeur. Ou est vous?”

The glass remains the same. My image doesn’t shift.

“S’il vous plaît,” I whisper into the dark.