David reappeared across the street from the apartment complex, and as soon as he could hear again, the cacophony was deafening. Sirens, radio chatter, and people shouting surrounded him, and the acrid smell of burning assailed him.
There were two enormous fire trucks blocking the street, and police cars lining the block to hold back the crowds.
The air was thick with smoke.
David ran across the street, pushing past the bright yellow barrier and ignoring the officer who tried to call him back. He snaked in between the fire trucks and emerged on the other side, where a blast of heat knocked him back.
It was like staring into hell. The building was an inferno, and several of the others in the complex had already gone up as well.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the charring white eaves of the building. Just beneath the roof, painted in dark red that was blackening in the smoke, was the Seal of Auren.
The energy expense of moving himself through such a great distance caught up with him as the shock did, and he felt his knees impacting with the concrete. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the flames licking out of Miranda’s windows—his mind’s eye showed him her furniture cracking and paint blistering, her prized keyboard’s casing melting in the heat.
And all the while, he could hear the past: Lizzie screaming as the bonfire rose up to consume her lily-white skin.
“Sire?”
He didn’t look away from the fire at the patrol leader who had found him.
“Sire, we found Elite Eighty-Six—she was still alive when we got to her, but . . .”
“What else?” he asked. “What have they found?”
“We don’t know. It happened so fast—they’re certain it was arson. They found gas cans in the parking lot. They rescued a few of the residents, but at least half are unaccounted for.”
“And Miss Grey?”
“I don’t know, Sire. All I know is . . .”
“What?”
“Lindsay . . . when we found her, she was saying ‘I failed, I’m sorry’ over and over again. When I asked her what happened, all she said was . . . was . . . ‘She’s gone.’ ”
“No,” he said. “She must have been out. She couldn’t have been in there. Find her. Now.”
He tried to think, tried to come up with another explanation. She had been at the club tonight, and he was supposed to meet her at midnight . . . she would have been home, waiting for him, when they came for her. She might even have opened the door thinking he was behind it.
There was no way she could have escaped. A small human woman couldn’t stand up to three vampires, not without months of fight training and a miracle. She had been strong, but not that strong, not yet.
No. No . . . no.
Desperate, he sought out with his power, trying to find the connection they’d had only days ago. He’d let it fade so that she could go back to normal for a little while longer, thinking it was the right thing to do, that she should have more time to think. But she had already known what she wanted. He was the one who was afraid. And now . . .
He searched for her with his mind, but when he found what was left of the link and tried to follow it, he met only cold darkness where her loving warmth should be. Even after a week there should have been a faint trace of it left.
He didn’t know how long he knelt there, staring at the fire, before a voice said, “Excuse me, sir, but I’ve been asked to show you this.”
David rose, absently dusting off his knees and straightening his coat, and faced the paramedic. The young woman was sweaty and dirty, and he could see that she was a seasoned professional who wouldn’t let herself feel the loss of life until after she had saved as many as she could.
He nodded, and she led him around the fire truck, past several humans in various degrees of jeopardy with other EMTs fixing oxygen masks on their faces. Nearby, there were already three bodies covered in sheets, awaiting transport to the morgue.
The Elite patrol leader he’d spoken to before was standing at the edge of the triage area. He was staring down at something.
David had never wanted to run away from anything so badly in his life.
He forced himself to walk up to the man’s side, stand between him and the EMT, and look down.
He was expecting a body. What he saw was a guitar.
“The fire started in unit two twenty-one,” the EMT was saying. “One of the first responders tripped over this and ended up dragging it out with him. The strings got wrapped around his foot. As I understand it, you know the resident here?”
David stared at the remains of the beautiful instrument. There was little more than a scrap of neck and string left, the body so charred it had fallen apart.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her play, that night at the club, when he had no idea how she would throw his world into such welcome turmoil. Then, that night at the Haven, when he’d watched her from the door, his heart so full of love for her that only a liter of Jack could silence it. He saw her slender hands dancing over the strings, the way they had danced over his skin, and her soft mouth forming words, that same mouth that had closed over his.
She was gone. He couldn’t feel her anymore. Ariana had gotten to her before the Elite could reach her. He’d been too late to save her. Jonathan’s vision had come true, and he had been too blind to heed the warning.
She was gone.
He responded numbly to the EMT’s questions, and when she finally left, he turned to the Elite.
“You will stay here until we have a body,” he informed the patrol leader. “Have Lindsay’s body sent back for a memorial and comb the area for any further evidence. I want this Blackthorn bitch brought to me.” He looked back up at the smoking remains of the apartment building, where everything that mattered had gone to ash. “I’m going home.”
Faith was waiting outside the front doors of the Haven when the car pulled up. She’d been standing there for nearly half an hour.
She’d tried to contact him over the coms, but he wasn’t answering; the patrol unit at the scene had no news, only that the building was a total loss and no body had been found. But if anyone would know, David would know. The connection between him and Miranda would surely still be active, and even if it wasn’t he was strong enough to find its echo.
She had to be alive. There was simply no other possibility. After everything that had happened, everything Miranda had been through, it couldn’t end so suddenly. They would find her, and she would be fine, and she would come home.
Harlan got out and held open the car door, and after a moment, David emerged, his face smudged with soot.
When she saw the expression on his face, Faith shook her head violently.
“No,” she charged up to him, standing in front of him, fighting the urge to shake him. “Tell me you found her, Sire. Tell me she’s okay.”
In the decades she’d known him she had seen him angry, seen him hate; she had seen him mourn. But she had never seen what she saw in his eyes at that moment . . . complete desolation.
Faith fell back, her hand to her mouth against the sobs that were trying to batter their way past her rapidly fracturing calm.
The Prime lowered his eyes and walked past her into the Haven, silent, head bowed.
Faith followed, struggling to regain control of herself, but she saw tears on the faces of the servants and Elite that she passed. When they reached the Prime’s wing, and he went quietly into the suite and shut the door without admitting her, Samuel took her arm.
“What’s happening?” he asked. “I just got on duty and everyone’s saying . . . God, Faith, is it true?”
She made herself sound professional even if her heart was screaming. “We don’t have confirmation yet. As soon as there’s news I’ll make sure you know.”
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
She started back down the hall. “We’re going to find Ariana Blackthorn and kill her. And we’re going to kill all of her friends. And anyone else who might need it. But first . . . first we’re going to find Miranda and bring her back here, where she belongs.”