The Watcher

Frey keeps going, deep into the desert, away from the road. He doesn't hesitate or falter but continues at the same pace until we're miles from the saloon. We hit no obstacles. I guess the witches did not expect anyone to approach from the heart of the desert. Approach what? I still don't know.

Lights appear on the horizon. And I hear other noises now, sounds of traffic and the acceleration and deceleration of airplane engines. We're nearing the Tijuana airport. But from the desert side. The lights of the city of Tijuana stretch beyond. Are we going into the city? Would the witch be pla

Frey keeps going straight toward the airport. When we're about a half mile away, he veers toward an industrial park. Or what passes in Mexico as an industrial park. It's more like a landfill, but one dotted with junkyards, truck yards and small warehouses and workshops. The place floods with light when airplanes approach the runways, only to be plunged into darkness when they've passed overhead. It's like being in a time loop of accelerated sunrise and sunset, made all the more eerie because I detect nothing human here at all. Big trucks and small tractors crouch like cowering beasts. A dog barks inside one of the buildings but it's more a howl of loneliness than a growl of warning. The place feels utterly empty.

Frey trots up to one of the warehouses. He looks up at me. Then back toward the door.

Doesn't take a genius to understand what he wants. But before I open that door, I put an ear to it. I don't want to be surprised by a welcoming party. I detect nothing. No movement. No sound.

The door has an old-fashioned latch. It lifts with a touch. No lock. I half expect a siren or alarm to go off as I gently tug the wooden door open a fraction of an inch. When nothing happens, I pull it back wide enough for Frey and me to scramble inside.

The instant I pass over that threshold, I'm hit by a wave of fear as tangible and painful as a gunshot. It knocks me back, breathless, shaking, numb, pins me against the wall with invisible hands. Images fill my head. The essence of anything that has ever scared me, every nightmare, takes physical shape and hovers before me, ready to attack. Donaldson is there, the vampire who turned me, and Avery. Fisher, gri

These nightmares inflict pain.

I can't move. The rational part of my brain knows this isn't real. It can't be. Donaldson, Avery, Fisher are gone. I saw Donaldson and Avery disintegrate into dust, felt the last shudder as I drained the life from Fisher. This is not real. Still, the instinctive part of my brain screams to run. Get out before it's too late. My body tenses to take flight. I have no choice. If I'm to survive, I have to leave this place. Leave and never come back. If I'm to live.

"A

A voice shouts from the void. It's far away. Too far away to help. Fisher and Avery press closer. Avery is smiling. His hands trace a path down my cheek, across my breast. I'm naked and where his fingers touch, my skin blackens and sloughs off. I try to slink away but I can't. The door to the warehouse swings open. A light shines in. Outside. I have to get outside. That's where I'll be safe.

My feet break free. I scream and whirl away from the nightmare. Move. Run.

A hand pulls me back.

No.

A voice. "A

Over and over. Familiar. Coaxing.

But it can't save me. If I don't leave this place, I'll die. Avery tells me. Fisher and Donaldson. Get away. Save yourself.

I slash at the hand holding me. It doesn't let go. I snarl and bite down until I taste blood. Still, I'm held fast. Furious, the vampire erupts. Blindly, I seek the throat of the creature. I find it and rip until the blood washes over my tongue. I drink.

And at the first taste, I know.

The blood. The taste, the texture, the essence. I recognize it. I know this creature.

It doesn't matter.

I can't stop.

The voice doesn't scream or beg. It doesn't struggle or pull away. It's grown quiet and still. Waiting.

That is what stops me.

I burrow against its neck, but not to drink. To listen. To understand. And when I grow quiet, too, it puts its arms around me and holds me. Then it pulls me forward, and I'm falling.

Falling.

Into the void.

CHAPTER 30

I DON'T KNOW HOW FAR WE FALL. AT SOME POINT, the creature holding me lets go but I'm not afraid. The fear is gone. Suddenly, there's a crunch of flesh against concrete. Mine. Brutal pain where my shoulder makes contact. When I open my eyes, I'm lying on a cold, damp floor.

Relief that I'm no longer in the grip of terror washes over me. It's so dark, I think for an instant that my eyes are still shut. But I raise my hands and I can see them against the inky darkness. I press my fingertips together and raise them to my lips. I smell the blood, taste it in the back of my throat.

Frey. Where is he?

A tiny noise behind me brings me to my feet. I crouch and whirl around, ready to spring. The sound comes from something lying against a wall a few feet away. It's a moan, and it comes again. When I approach, the figure stirs and tries to sit up. I recognize him and rush to his side.

Frey is in his human form. He is naked and bleeding, from a wound to his arm and another at his throat.

Wounds I made.

I kneel at his side and offer my hand, not sure if he'll accept it or knock it away.

He reaches out and lets me help him into a sitting position.

"Are you very badly hurt?" I ask him.

He leans his back against the wall and stretches his legs out in front of him. "That will teach me to come between a vampire and her nightmares," he says.

"Did you see—?"

"Only your reaction. It wasn't difficult to fill in the blanks."

"You weren't affected?"

"I stayed in animal form until I realized you were in real trouble. As a panther, I was immune. When I changed, I felt the same horrors you did, but I managed to get you to the tu

I look around. "Where are we?"

Frey pushes himself up. He moves stiffly, stretching and testing each limb. He seems to have forgotten that he's naked. Not so long ago, he hid behind a bar to keep me from seeing the view I'm enjoying now. He catches me checking him out.

"Didn't know I'd be changing back before we got back to the bar," he grumbles. But he doesn't try to cover himself. "You really should stop staring."

Like there's anything else to look at. But I drag my eyes off Frey and do a slow turn. We're in some kind of tu

"I've seen this before." I press my fingertips against my eyes. "I can't remember when, though. I think the fall has affected my memory."

Frey shakes his head. "I doubt you've ever been here. More likely, it looks familiar because the tu

Of course. It was discovered a couple of years ago that drug ru

"Come on," Frey starts to move down the tu