The Watcher

I glance down at the mob. I sense only humans, full of venom and unrestrained fury, but no supernaturals among them. I know I'd have a better chance of surviving than a human or an injured or drugged shape-shifter. Culebra must be hurt or under the influence of a powerful spell. He has not reached out telepathically to me. And there is Frey. He is lying injured and bleeding at our feet, the arrow in his side rising and falling with each labored breath. He must get help soon. "Will you let the panther and the girl go, as well, if I agree?"

She frowns. "You aren't serious? Do you think you could survive against this crowd? Do you think they would allow your friends to walk away? Some of Aswah's followers have waited years for this night. You have ruined it. If I don't allow them their revenge here and now, they will not rest until they have tracked down the shape-shifters and the girl and destroyed them."

Foley interrupts with an abrupt guttural hiss. "I don't know what you two fruitcakes are talking about," he snaps. "But I've got what I want. I don't give a shit what happens to those two." He kicks at Frey. "And the panther? Isn't that overdoing it just a little, even for a drama queen like you?"

He's talking to Burke and I see her shoulders grow tight. But Frey makes a mewling noise at Foley's touch and that ignites a fire in my belly. "Don't touch him." It comes out in a growl.

Foley laughs. "Or you'll do what?" He centers the crossbow again, at my chest.

Burke stiffens beside him. "Be careful, Foley," she says. "A

She doesn't have a chance to finish the sentence. In the next instant Foley finds out exactly what I am.

CHAPTER 34

WHEN I LUNGE, WHEN THE VAMPIRE LUNGES, Foley flinches. He's not prepared for the sight or sound of my fury. I'm at his throat, dimly aware of the danger of the crossbow in his hand, acutely aware that he is a threat to my friends, Frey at his feet, Culebra on the cross. I press my body against his, forcing the hand with the crossbow down between us. If he fires now it will be painful, but not deadly.

But Foley doesn't fire. In fact, he does nothing. His eyes are wide, staring, unbelieving. He can't seem to look away, makes no move to flee. He is rooted to the spot, terrified, confused. I remember what it was like, that first realization that what confronts you is a creature from a nightmare. It hasn't been that long. The paralyzing fear, the reeling mind, the body numb with shock.

It fills the vampire with power, wonder, lust. It makes taking a human easy.

I feel it now. I hear the voice—A

My heart is pounding, deafening in my ears. My body is on fire with the bloodlust. This overwhelming urge to kill a human overtook me once before—when I had Trish's tormentor by the throat. Frey stopped me then. I have to stop myself now.

Foley is limp in my arms. He's whimpering, making a sound much like the one Frey made moments before. Not of pain. This is the sound of surrender, of terror. My lips are at his throat, the rush of his blood makes them tingle with anticipation. I let my tongue rest lightly over the pulse point at the base of his jaw. His heart is hammering and I revel in the knowledge that he is mine for the taking.

A movement, small and inconsequential brings me back. Frey, squirming in pain at our feet. And a sound, the witch yelling.

I jerk my head back from Foley and whirl around.

Humans are coming up the stairs toward me. They clutch pieces of sharpened wood in their hands and their faces are masks of hatred. These humans know about vampires. They are not paralyzed by fear or wonder. With a swooping motion, I grab Frey. I glance over at the cross. I can't do anything for either the human or Culebra. I can only save Frey and myself.

Culebra, I scream silently, I'm sorry.

There is no answer.

The woman hangs alone on the cross. Culebra is gone.

CHAPTER 35

THE PANTHER'S BODY IS LIKE A CHILD'S IN MY arms. I leap off the altar and race for the darkness beyond. The humans, however full of hate, ca

I don't go to the tu

I race over the desert terrain with a sure footedness that surprises me. When we came this way before, Frey led and I followed. I don't know what instinct is at work now, but I surrender to it, let an i

When I reach the saloon, animal instinct stops me from bursting through the doors. I don't know if Culebra is dead or if he has beaten me back here or if the witch awaits both of us inside. I lay Frey on the street, out of harm's way, and approach. My senses tingle with apprehension. I listen, not only with my ears, but with my entire body. My nerve endings are on fire. The skittering of bugs crawling across the floor and the hum of the wings of flying insects are sounds both distinct and identifiable. I listen harder—for mortal breathing and the pulse of a heartbeat. I probe for things nonhuman—vampire and shape-shifter. When I am sure I am alone, I sweep the cat into my arms once more and take him inside. I lay him gently on the floor and hunker down beside him.

The hammering of my heart, the rush of my blood, the desire to attack something is so intense, I actually consider going back to find the witch. Foley is human. The witch is something else. Without Frey's well-being to consider, I could stop her from harming my friends again. Permanently. Killing her, drinking from her, would be exquisite revenge for what she did to Culebra, to Frey.

The human A

When she—when I—return, I have to close my eyes, clear my head until the shaking stops. I've felt it before, the dichotomy. I've fought against it. But tonight, when the vampire took over, A

The guttural sound of an engine floats across the still night. A car approaching. The barrier must be down. Perhaps when Frey and I broke the circle, we broke the spell as well.

I lay Frey down carefully behind the bar and crouch there, too, to wait. It might be the witch and Foley. If it is, I'll be ready.

The car pulls to a stop right outside the saloon. Three doors slam, almost in unison. My mental probe detects nothing. Either three humans approach or these visitors have cloaked their own thoughts the same way I am cloaking mine.

I creep to the end of the bar, hidden in shadow, and peek around.

The doors swing open with a rustle of air.

A