Something told me it wouldn’t be quite that easy.
My phone went off. As soon as I saw Grigori’s name flash on the screen, I snatched it up. “Morning, Grigori,” I said, eyeing Caleb. He’d stopped spreading butter on his toast to hear our conversation.
“Morning. Are you and Caleb ready to get back to work today?”
My shoulders slumped. Not going home after all. “Of course. What’s today’s plan?”
“While the storm passed through Cluj, our murderers struck again—twice.”
My mouth parted in surprise. “Two more murders?”
“In two cities dozens of miles apart from one another—and from us. Seems our killers were busy over the holidays.”
I rubbed my brow.
“The department is investigating your leads,” Grigori continued. “In the meantime, we’d like to take you and Caleb to the crime scene in Alba Iulia to see if it fits your theory.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Great. We’ll be ready to go in thirty minutes. We’re at Andre’s place.” I rattled off the address and hung up shortly thereafter.
Another day, another murder scene. I sighed inwardly. The sooner Caleb and I did this, the sooner we’d get to go home.
The snowstorm had let up, but the visibility was still awful. I stared out at the bleak scenery from the front seat of Grigori’s sedan, my mind far away. The car ride was quiet for miles, with the exception of Caleb’s quiet snores.
Through the snowy haze, I watched Alba Iulia materialize. It was difficult to catch clear glimpses of the city as we drove through it, but from what I could tell, it had the same regal, Old World European beauty that Cluj had.
The buildings began to thin out, looking a bit more decrepit, and I realized that we’d almost passed the city by. Eventually even those remaining buildings gave way to just a scattering of homes littering each side of the road.
When fifteen minutes had gone by, and we hadn’t shown signs of stopping I stretched my limbs. “Do you know how much further we have?” I asked Grigori.
“We should be there soon if the road continues to be as clear as it has been,” he said.
I yawned, then blinked my eyes rapidly. Between dreams of the devil and the murder investigation, I hadn’t gotten much sleep since I’d been in Romania. Now it was starting to show.
I grabbed the coffee Grigori had snagged me from the station and took a deep gulp, then another, wincing when the bitter black coffee hit my tongue.
I frowned. Black like my soul.
I kept the coffee in my lap as I stared out the window. The gentle rock of the car seemed to lull me, and my eyes drooped.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I brought the coffee to my lips and drank deeply once more before setting the cup aside. If that didn’t wake me up, then nothing could.
But even as I thought the words, my limbs and eyelids began to feel heavy. I fought to stay awake, but really, what was the harm? Grigori would wake me up when we arrived.
With that final thought, I closed my eyes and drifted off.
Chapter 23
When Andre rose, it was with a smile. How my enemies would laugh at me, to see me now, he thought. For one like him, humanity came with a price. So did love.
They were weaknesses to exploit. He knew that because he’d so often exploited those weaknesses in others.
Before he met her.
Now his wrath was a charade he had to keep up, his viciousness a cloak that hid something soft beneath it.
He moved through the windowless chamber of the guest room he’d stayed in, wondering when he’d let Gabrielle see him sleep. She’d learned and accepted so much, but there was still so much of their world she hadn’t seen, hadn’t experienced.
And damn him, but he wanted to shield her from it for as long as possible.
At the thought of her, he stilled.
Where was their connection? He should’ve felt her energy pulling at him, beckoning him to find her. Now it was dim, nearly nonexistent.
True and terrible fear coursed through him. Where was she?
Not in the house.
He began moving at once, prowling his halls like an animal. His servants stayed out of his way. They knew to remain scarce when he was like this.
Andre glanced out the window. The snow was still coming down, not as heavy as it had been during the last couple days, but enough to deter one from going outside or venturing onto the road.
Had she gone back to the inn? He ignored his twinge of hurt at the thought. I am the king of vampires; slights are met with anger, not sadness.
Instead he made his way to his room, running a hand through his hair. He saw the rumpled sheets of his bed where she’d slept, ignoring the pang of lust that came with the image of her wrapped up in them. His woman in his sheets.
His eyes fell on Gabrielle’s luggage.
She hadn’t gone back to the inn.
That realization should have brought relief, but instead fear and anger clawed away at him. She hadn’t gone back, yet she wasn’t in his house.
Andre pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed her phone. The call went straight to voicemail.
Bloody hell.
A courageous servant came up to him. “Sir, your guests—”
“Get a car ready,” Andre said, unzipping her luggage, and praying that Gabrielle left those files behind.
“But sir, the snow—”
“Damn you, I said get a car ready!” he bellowed.
He didn’t know where he was going yet, but he had an idea.
I woke to a deathly chill and the smell of brimstone and decay. My eyes were covered and a cloth had been forced between my teeth.
My shoulders throbbed from where they were wrenched behind my back, and my wrists were raw where they’d been tied together.