Legacy

I’d moved to the deck outside my bedroom, watching a cold December morning break over the water. Frey’s words echo in my head, triggering two different emotions as the implication of what he’s telling me becomes clear. The first is anger. Much of my adjustment to life as a vampire has been forged on the anvil of anger. Its burn is familiar, almost reassuring. I’ve grown used to it.

But the second emotion, disappointment, is far more devastating. That Frey would withhold something this important is incomprehensible. When I try to speak, the sense of betrayal rises in my throat and words won’t come.

“A

My impulse is to hang up. Instead, I swallow hard and manage to say, “Why didn’t you tell me this before? When you gave me the book, for instance?”

A pause. “You told me you had business with a were. I thought if you read the book, you’d rethink doing any kind of business with a were. You didn’t say it was personal. You didn’t say it was a were with a vendetta. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

A comforting tide of rising anger swamps betrayal. “You should have told me? A werewolf bite is deadly to a vampire. Why the fuck isn’t that in your books?”

“It’s a rather new development,” he says, retreating into a professorial tone from the guilt laden. “The pathology only showed up in the last hundred years or so. The book was written in the fifteen hundreds.”

“Does Williams know about this toxin?”

A hesitation. “I don’t know.”

The hesitation gives it away. “A vampire as old as Williams? What are the odds he doesn’t know?”

Frey doesn’t let himself get drawn in. He must sense where I’m going with this because he adds, “I can’t believe Williams would ever deliberately put you in danger. Anything he’s done, he’s done with your best interest at heart.”

Best interest? As a human or a vampire? I can think of several things he’s done that were definitely not in the human A

I’m not convinced Frey is telling the truth, either.

I hear Frye’s quiet breathing on the other end of the line. I’ve made him uncomfortable, questioning Williams’ motives in keeping me in the dark. Not that it matters. My path is clear.

“Are all weres infected?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Frey answers. He sounds relieved that I’ve changed the subject. “It’s best to assume they are. The only accounts we have are of deaths that have occurred. There are none of vampires surviving a bite.”

Great. “Is there anything else you’ve neglected to tell me?”

“Just be careful, A

CHAPTER 55

AFTER I HANG UP, IT TAKES A MINUTE TO GALVA-NIZE myself into action. The resentment I feel, toward Frey for not simply telling me everything when I was at his house instead of giving me that damned book and toward Williams for letting me blunder off to meet Sandra without a warning, takes some swallowing. I want to call Williams, confront him because I will never believe he didn’t know about the toxin. The question is why he wouldn’t tell me about it. He’s always looking for ways to draw me into the fold. Or to scare me.

I trudge upstairs and into the shower, head still spi

There could be other reasons he might not tell me.

One terrible reason. Frey asked a very important question: if it is Avery, who else might he target to get back at me? He already went after David. Would my family be next? Might Williams let that happen? Might he see that as a way to sever the last links I have with humanity? Or might it be that Williams is sick of our sparring and wants to be rid of me once and for all? Let me tangle with the were, get bitten, and watch me die. Either way, his problem is solved. We began as enemies; maybe we’ve come full circle.

By the time the front doorbell rings, promptly at nine, I’ve showered, changed, but am far from ready. I’m sick with the implications of Williams’ treachery and know I have to confront him. But right now, I open the door to find David talking on his cell, a stupid grin on his face. He rings off and slips the phone into his jacket.

“Tamara,” he says, though I didn’t ask. “We’ve moved our date up to four. Going back to the cabin. I’m going to cook her di

“Four? That’s pretty early. I do have things to do today, you know.”

He looks down at me. “You said you’d stay with Gloria. You owe me this, remember?”

Shit. I grab my jacket and purse from the back of the couch. I do owe him. My timetable got moved up: Call Jason, see my dad, find that damned talisman without being attacked and bitten by a werewolf. Go after Williams. All in time to make sure Sandra and her crew are out of town before 4:00 p.m.

Bloody piece of cake.

CHAPTER 56

CHARMER’S BODY SHOP IS IN A STRIP MALL RIGHT off the South Bay Freeway in Chula Vista. At first, the inconspicuous location and modest look of the place makes me wonder if I was wise in trusting my car to a local instead of taking it to the dealership. Once inside the big prefab building, however, my misgivings are put to rest. Workers in spotless white jumpsuits swarm over a Ferrari, a Mercedes, a vintage Corvette and my Jag. It’s already up on risers, the prep work for the new paint job under way.

Charmer smiles a greeting and jabs a thumb toward the car. “Forgot to ask you last night. Same color? We can change it if you’d like.”

I shake my head, unable to drag my eyes off the damage that was done to my car. It looks even worse under the harsh glare of overhead lights. “No. The original British Racing Green.”

He nods his approval and leads us out of the building to the back. He hands me the keys to the loaner. The candy-apple red Mustang sparkles under the overcast sky like a jewel. Seeing it lifts my spirits.

“Sure you don’t want to take the Hummer?” David asks in a wistful voice.

I snatch the keys from Charmer before David can. “No. Thanks.” I look up at Charmer. “You sure it’s all right for me to take this? It’s such a beautiful car.”

“You’re not going to let it get trashed, too, are you?” His face is serious, but his tone is not. He grins. “Of course. Have fun with it.”

The Mustang engine growls to life when I turn the ignition. David still has that little-boy look of yearning on his face when I pull out. I wave to them both, then double-clutch it when I hit the road. The Mustang responds like a race car. I feel like Steve McQueen.

At least one thing will be fun today.

I head back downtown to the office to call Jason.

When I pull into my office parking space, I notice a car parked in David’s. It’s one of those hybrid models, painted a dull pastel green. Looks anemic beside the Mustang. I don’t recognize it. David won’t be happy, especially since both our spaces are clearly marked “reserved.” He can take care of it. I need to get in and out.

The keys are in my hand and I’m right at the door when someone steps out from the bay side of the building.

“Jason?”

He looks tired and scared, and I open the door and motion him inside.

“What’s the matter?”

The kid stares down at his shoes and I realize he’s wearing the same clothes he had on when I saw him at his house yesterday. I point to a chair. “Sit. I’ll make coffee.” I get it going and check out the small, under-the-counter refrigerator we keep in the office. “There’s not much here, but there are some day-old bagels. Are you hungry?”