Страница 25 из 54
But the timing is wrong.
I can see Williams bailing on his career, even his wife, but not on me. As long as I’ve known him, he’s played up this destiny thing. He has made it crystal clear that he considers it not just mine, but his destiny, too, to shape and direct. Even his wife said so, at Ortiz’ funeral. Williams obviously shared with her his vision for the future—my future, our future—and there’s no fucking way he’d kill himself before he saw it through.
Unless he didn’t kill himself.
Unless he’s out there somewhere, waiting for the right time to contact me.
Unless this is part of a grand plan to isolate the two of us.
He might even have some idiotic idea that I’ll fake my own death, too, and give myself over to him. He’s egocentric enough to consider it. And it certainly sounds like a plan Underwood would agree to.
Underwood.
I should have thought about Underwood sooner.
Dread twines in my gut like a strand of thorns.
Why didn’t I think about Underwood sooner?
Williams wouldn’t have faked his own death. He’d have no need to. Just as Underwood had no need for Williams once I’d agreed to trade my family and friends’ safety in exchange for cooperation.
Jesus. It’s so clear.
Williams is dead.
Underwood killed him.
It would make perfect sense in Underwood’s twisted head.
Underwood and Williams might have been working together to get my cooperation but once they had it, what use was Williams to Underwood? He saw that there was no love lost between the two of us. Maybe he even pla
I can hear him saying it: Here, A
Underwood has been vampire for five hundred years. He must know more about the Chosen One than Williams ever did. Perhaps he and Williams didn’t see eye to eye on how best to indoctrinate me.
He didn’t seem pleased that Williams accepted my terms so easily—my cooperation in return for Lance’s safety and that of my family and friends. Could that have been what caused the falling out? Was Underwood so distrustful that I’d honor our agreement that he decided to renegotiate on his own?
Oh my god.
The thought makes me lunge for the telephone on the side table. The first call I make is to my family in France. My niece, Trish, picks up, her voice full of cheerful surprise. Yes, she assures me, everything is fine. My mother is in the garden picking herbs for di
I tell her no, that I just wanted to say hello. I ring off with the promise to call again soon for a real chat.
Next I call David. His sleepy voice reminds me that it’s only a little after seven and why am I calling so early? In the background, an equally sleepy female voice asks who it is. Except I realize it’s not sleep I’m hearing in her voice. When David asks again in a husky, slightly winded tone why I’m calling, it dawns on me that it’s not sleep I interrupted.
Mumbling an apology and a stupid excuse about needing an address I’ll track down at the office, I disco
My family is fine.
David is fine.
David is more than fine, actually.
Lance will be on his way home in a few hours.
If Underwood doesn’t intend on using them for leverage against me, what does he intend to use?
CHAPTER 25
It’s a little after nine when the doorbell rings again.
It catches me as I come downstairs, having finally roused myself off the couch to shower and change from the sweats and T-shirt I sleep in when I’m alone to the jeans and T-shirt I live in when I’m awake.
As usual, I don’t think to check to see who is outside before swinging the door open. I wish I had.
Mrs. Williams’ unexpected presence catches me totally off guard.
She registers the shock on my face while her own betrays nothing. After a moment, she says, “May I come in?”
Numbly, I nod and step aside.
What am I supposed to say to her?
She crosses the living room and slumps onto the couch. Her eyes sweep the room, appraising, assessing, taking measure of how I live. Her expression remains detached. Even when she feels my eyes on her, she does not react except to meet my gaze with her own.
It’s then I see it. The subtle changes.
She’s about forty-five, slender, attractive. She’s dressed in designer widow—tailored black crepe slacks, charcoal blouse, fitted black blazer. She always had a patrician air about her, the look of one used to being pampered. Her face now is drawn with grief, but the lines are softer, her skin more youthful, her eyes brighter than I remember.
I sense something, too.
A vibe coming off her. Powerful. Intrusive.
She looks away from me. Her shoulders bunch. She knows I’m studying her.
She’s wishing she hadn’t come. Realizes now it was a mistake.
I know what she’s feeling. I know what she’s thinking.
I know because I’m in her head.
She’s been turned. She’s vampire.
CHAPTER 26
How? When?
My questions are met with confusion. Mrs. Williams looks at me with panic in her eyes.
I recognize the signs. It was only a year ago I felt the same confusion, the same panic when Avery made his first attempt to co
She has not been vampire long.
I sit down on the coffee table in front of her, our knees touching. I want her to look at me.
When did Warren turn you?
She shakes her head, not understanding what’s happening. She doesn’t realize you have to learn to cloak your thoughts. I’m sure it’s something her husband would not have taught her. His need to control would have prevented it.
So, I take the information I need. The story is there. He turned her after Ortiz’ funeral, while Warren was still weak and in need of human blood. He sent her out to bring back hosts, telling her what to say and what to offer. He used his background as a cop to teach her what to look for—runaways, vagrants—and how to approach them so they wouldn’t be frightened. They were offered money and food (laced with drugs) and after, they’d remember nothing and she’d drive them back to where she found them.
It was easy. She was never afraid. She was proud of how strong she’d become. Warren was proud of her, too. He promised her a new life. Promised her the world once he and A
A new world. Where he would be king and his wife would be queen.
I pull myself back from the tangle of thought and emotion emanating from her mind.
New world? I ask, hoping she had something more.
She looks at me with that same panic. She doesn’t understand how she can hear me.
It strikes me that not only did Williams never explain that he could read her thoughts, he never explained that she could project hers as well. Another way to keep her under his control. He could cloak his thoughts so she had no idea he was reading hers.
Clever. Manipulative.
Predictable.
I get up and move away.
What do I do now? What do I do with her?
She’s watching me. Knowing how she feels about me, it must have been desperation that brought her here. She’s a vampire with no idea what it means or how to take care of herself. Williams turned her months ago but left her ignorant of basic survival skills. I’m sure he thought he’d be around. Sure he pla
His own ways, of course.
What to do now?
This time when I sit down, I take a seat in a chair across the room. Put some space between us. Her head is bowed, her hands knotted in her lap. I realize she’s crying when I see tears splash onto her hands. She doesn’t move, doesn’t make any attempt to wipe them away.