Chosen

God.

Frey hesitates, as if waiting for me to say something. I don’t know what to say. I’m trembling. For David. For the thoughts swirling around in my head.

If Mrs. Williams blames me for her husband’s death, what better way to exact revenge than by taking David?

“A

I rouse myself out of the miasma. “Frey, do you know where Avery lived?”

“Avery?” He repeats the name in a voice reflecting bewilderment and surprise. “What does Avery have to do with anything?”

“Maybe nothing. But Warren Williams and Avery were friends for two hundred years. He blamed me for Avery’s death. Now Mrs. Williams blames me for her husband’s death. I think there’s a good chance she took David. And the logical place to take him would be where my co

Frey is silent for a moment. When he speaks, his words are reflective and deliberate. “You may be right. Do you want me to go out there, take a look around?”

“Not in your human form. She’ll be looking for someone to come snooping. And she knows you’re my friend.”

“What about as panther?”

“During the day? How would you pull that off?”

I do the arithmetic. If we’re in San Diego about one p.m., I’ll have time to see Culebra and get back to meet Frey before dark. “Wait for me to call you. We can’t do anything before dark. She’s not going to hurt David until she makes sure I’m around to watch.”

He’s silent, and I know the idea of waiting for eight or nine hours is chafing. I know because I’m feeling the same thing.

“Don’t try to go on your own, Frey,” I warn. “Wait for me. You will wait for me, right?”

“Of course.”

Too quick. But Frey is not stupid. He won’t take u

I’m ready to thank him and hang up when something else he said bubbles to the surface of my consciousness. “You said Lance called? When?”

“Two hours ago. Said you were on your way home. Could be reached on the plane if I needed to get in touch with you. He sounded strange, A

Fight? I feel the bloodlust stir in anticipation.

No. Not yet. But it’s certainly coming.

I thrust the vampire back into her box. “It’s not important.”

“Is that the reason you left town? Because you were fighting with Lance?”

“No. Let it go.”

“Then was it to be away for the a

I don’t like the way that sounds. “What?”

A moment of silence, as if Frey is choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been doing some checking. We were wrong in thinking the a

For a moment, he sounds so much like Julian Underwood spouting his goddess of the Sorginak garbage that I’m tempted to laugh.

But what they wanted to do to me in that cave wasn’t fu

Why should I assume this would be any better?

I thought it was over—the craziness about being the Chosen One. Now I’m not so sure.

If Mrs. Williams intends to carry the ba

I think back to the dark days of my becoming. I was attacked on a Friday night. I was in the hospital for what? One or two days. Then Avery came to my house and told me that I was no longer human. That I was vampire. Two days later, I fed from him. If what Frey says is true, four days after I was bitten would be Tuesday. When whatever is supposed to happen, will.

Unless I can stop it.

I ask Frey to do one more thing before we ring off. Well, two things actually. The first is to call David’s girlfriend and tell her something—anything—to keep her from reporting David missing. Police involvement we don’t need. The second is to call Tracey and do the same. Make up a story that David and I went out of town on a job. Assure them both the accident thing was a false alarm. That we’ll be in touch with them by the end of the week.

In touch, I think ironically, or dead.

Either way, it won’t matter.

After hanging up, I cross the cabin, head directly for the bar. Pour two drinks. Scotch, neat. One I down in a single gulp standing up at the teak counter, enjoying the burn as it scalds a trail down my throat and bursts with the impact of a fireball in my gut.

The other I take back with me to nurse in my seat.

The thing I have to figure out now is what Mrs. Williams is up to. She has David. There’s not even a glimmer of doubt in my head about that. Why she has David is the question. Is it simply a way to get back at me for her husband’s death? Or is there something more?

Warren Williams was adamant and vocal about my destiny. I’m sure he shared those feelings with his wife. As a mortal, she probably listened with bored indifference to his rants about me. How ignorant I was, how ineffectual as a vampire, how uninterested I was in learning the ways. She knows more about what being the “Chosen One” means than I do. Hell, I don’t know anything about what it means and I seriously wish now I had taken the time to learn. My gut, however, says that power goes along with that title. It has to. Williams and Avery were all about power—having it, controlling it, hoarding it.

And that may be the problem.

As I see it, there are two possibilities. Either Mrs. Williams means to see that I fulfill that mysterious destiny and assume the crown as a tribute to her husband.

Or she means to wear that crown herself.

CHAPTER 33

It’s a little before two when we land in San Diego. Disconcerting since we left France at nine this morning and have been en route for thirteen hours. If what’s happening isn’t bad enough, the time difference will make this day hellishly long.

The pilot taxis from the runway to Jimsair, the private terminal. I wonder first how he would know to do that and then I realize how stupid that question is.

Of course he would know. It’s where he picked me up, unconscious and with Lance as my companion.

When I deplane, a Jimsair employee is waiting. He and the pilot have a brief conversation before he turns to me.

“The same arrangements as always, Ms. Strong?”

Since I have no idea what that means, I just nod. Williams took care of the details before. When I went to France to visit my folks, I simply called the pilot I’d used before and told him when I wanted to leave. He took care of the rest. I suppose now I’d better take more interest.

That will be first thing on my to-do list after getting David back safely and killing Lance.

But right now . . . “I need to call a taxi. Can I do that inside?”

The guy nods and gestures toward the lounge. “Georgia at the desk will help you.”

I thank him. I’ll go straight home. Change out of this ridiculous outfit and go to Beso de la Muerte. There are questions I have for Culebra and, I imagine, questions he has for me.

I push through the old-fashioned double swinging doors.

Culebra looks up, frowns and his greeting is a curt, “I’ve been wondering when you’d show up.”