“No, it’s too close. He could find me there. We have to move. To run.” Amaia’s eyes darted across the countryside, trying to make sense of her surroundings and determine where she would be safe. Even now, Michael could be chasing her.
“We will, Amaia. We will. But we must get Lawrence. Can you contact Lawrence?” Meg’s smooth voice calmed Amaia enough to understand the logic behind her friend’s words. Lawrence would know what to do.
“I need you.”
“Where are you?” The mere sound of his voice in her head calmed her. He was strong and sure.
“In the woods northwest of the city.”
“I’ll be there soon. Are Meg and Liam with you?”
“Yes.”
“Stay there.”
“He’s on his way.” Lawrence would come and make sense of this all.
Meg nodded and grasped Amaia’s hands. There was something about the gesture that rooted Amaia, made her feel a little less scared.
“Who the hell is she going on about?” Liam stood with his arms crossed before him. “Another vampire? I haven’t sensed one since we arrived.”
“No, it was that man who came into the tavern during the game.” Meg didn’t let go of Amaia.
“A mortal? Don’t tell me you, Amaia, one of the most powerful vampires in the last century, is afraid of a mortal?” The incredulity in Liam’s tone reached the part of Amaia’s brain that thought this was crazy.
“It wasn’t just any mortal, Liam. It was Michael, her transformation kill.”
Amaia was grateful her friends respected her enough to speak out loud. They could just as easily discuss her insanity behind her back.
“What? That’s impossible. When humans die, they’re dead. They don’t come back.”
“That’s enough, Liam. We’ll straighten it all out when Lawrence arrives.”
Lawrence. He would know what to do. He always did. “Please hurry.”
“I’m almost there. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Amaia focused on the woods around her, scanning for Lawrence’s form amid the rain and foliage. When she saw him, she stood. She wouldn’t be weak before him. There was no need to be. He made her strong.
“What is going on? What happened?” Lawrence looked between Amaia and Meg and then to Liam before focusing back on Amaia.
“It’s Michael, Lawrence. I saw him tonight, at the tavern.” Amaia watched his expression, seeking a clue to his thoughts.
“Are you sure?” It was a simple inquiry for more information.
The relief that washed over Amaia at the absence of doubt in his voice reminded her why she never intended to mate. Lawrence was the only person she would ever need, the only one who could protect and understand her. “Yes. He looked different. Only his eyes were the same. I’d recognize them anywhere.”
“Eyes? Really, Amaia? There are only so many ways eyes can look. You’ve exposed us over a set of eyes?” Liam came closer. Amaia knew this was his protectiveness of Meg coming to the surface. She had made a major blunder back at the tavern, rising faster than any human could, and it threatened them all if the superstitious townsfolk got it in their heads that they were demons or some other such nonsense.
“It wasn’t just the eyes, though I’m telling you, they were Michael’s. It was his energy. It was the same. There’s no doubt in my mind. That aura is his and his alone. I’d recognize it anywhere.” It was true. Even though Amaia hadn’t been able to sense energies the same way as a mortal, she knew it was true. It was intuition, what mortals called a gut feeling.
Lawrence placed his hands around her upper arms and kissed her on the forehead. It comforted her in a way that nothing else could. “I believe you. Do you think he recognized you?”
The question caught her off guard. She had just assumed that he would recognize her as easily as she had recognized him. That was a foolish assumption to make. “No. Now that I think about it, I don’t think he did.”
“All right, that’s good. What do you want to do? Do you want to kill him?” Lawrence spoke in the same cool pragmatic tone as always. It grounded Amaia and made her realize that this wasn’t out of their reach to deal with.
“No. I don’t see what good it would do. It didn’t work last time.” The thought of what might happen if she killed him again chilled her. The consequences of the first time were bad enough.
“That’s a good point. What do we do?”
Lawrence left the decision to her. She knew they would follow her no matter what choice she made. They had somehow formed their own little clan, and they were looking to her. She knew then that if she asked any of them to kill Michael, they would. Maybe that would cease her haunting. At the same time, it might simply transfer it to whoever killed him. She wouldn’t do that to a friend.
“I want to run to our home in Paris. It hasn’t been so long since we were there that our age would be an issue. He won’t be able to follow us such a long distance.” She needed the familiarity of her favorite city.