Lilah wanted to get as far away from Frenchman’s Pass as she could, but at least if they were snowed in, GenHance wouldn’t be able to get to them. “Did the sheriff believe you?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “He seems more interested in what happened to our abductors than us.” He studied her face. “What is it?”

“The doctor thinks you and I had rough sex a few days ago, when you got back to the States.” She touched the blanket where it lay over her side. “That’s how I explained the bruises here.”

He pulled back the blanket to look at her. “You said I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t, and don’t worry, he believed me.” She didn’t know how much time they would have to speak privately, so she’d have to be blunt about the rest. “I know because I read his mind.”

“You said you can’t do that with humans.”

He was already thinking of people as a different species, Lilah thought. “Maybe I can now.” She looked down at their linked hands, and then into his eyes. “Think of something. Your favorite color. Don’t,” she said as he started to draw his hand away. “I have to know if my ability has changed, and it’s safer if I try it on you.”

He went still. “You may not like what you see in my head.”

“I like everything about you,” she chided. “Now, think. Your favorite color. Please.”

They sat together in silence, Walker watching her as she tried to reach out to him. She not only couldn’t read his thoughts; she couldn’t feel any emotion coming from him. It was as if he’d turned into a stone statue.

At last she stopped trying. “It’s not working with you anymore.”

He stiffened. “You read my mind before this?”

“I felt your emotions, or at least, I thought I did.” Her head began to ache miserably. “I guess there’s one good thing about it. If I can read the minds of normal people, and the sheriff is planning to arrest us, I’ll know in advance.”

She tried not to jump as someone knocked and an older woman looked in before entering.

“Evening,” she said, carrying several tote bags over to the desk across from the cot. “Sheriff Jemmet asked me to bring over some clothes and food for you folks.”

The woman wore a heavy plaid wool coat, which she removed to reveal a flannel shirt and a heavy denim jumper. Her salt-and-pepper hair had been cut into a short, neat bob that flattered her broad features and light blue eyes.

“I’m Annie Peterson, and Ethan tells me you’re Mari and Walker.” Without waiting for an answer she began unloading the bags. “I’ve got hot chicken soup, grilled ham sandwiches, and a thermos of coffee. Should warm you up in a jiffy.”

“We appreciate the meal, Mrs. Peterson.” Lilah tucked the blanket around her before she sat up.

“Since Mr. Peterson high-tailed it out of here twenty years ago, I much prefer Annie.” She sized both of them up with a glance before digging into another bag. “What I brought ought to fit you, hon, but I’ll have to find some bigger duds for your man.”

“Is there a place we can stay in town until the roads are cleared?” Lilah asked.

“You’ll be staying with me. I run the B and B here, and I’ve plenty of rooms.” She turned to Walker. “Ethan says you were robbed, so no need to worry about paying. It’ll be on the county.”

Walker gave her a direct look, and then glanced at Annie.

Of course, he wanted her to test her new ability. Lilah reached out as Annie brought the clothing over to her and touched the woman’s hand. At the same time, she opened her mind as she had with Paul Jemmet. “This is very kind of you.”

She’s near too pretty to look at, and twice as sweet. Annie took a deep breath. Lord, she’s ripe as a harvest moon. No wonder Ethan’s back is up. Out loud she said, “Way you folks have been treated, it’s the least the town can do. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Lilah held on to her hand and reached out to the other woman’s mind, quickly finding her way in. “Okay, Walker, I’m in.” To Annie, she said, “I want to ask you some questions. Will you answer them for me?”

Annie’s face went slack. “Yes.”

“Is there a phone here I can use?”

“None that works. Storm’s knocked out all the landlines,” Annie said, her voice going low and rough.

Lilah looked over at Walker. “She’s under my control now. It’s just like I’ve done with animals. She’ll tell us whatever we want to know.”

He circled around the older woman. “How can you be sure you’re in complete control?”

“Annie, bend down and touch your toes.” Lilah watched as she obeyed. “Now hop on one foot three times. Tell me, why did your husband leave you?”

“I’m barren.” Annie lifted one foot and began to hop on the other. “He hated me for it.”

“She would never tell a stranger something like that, Walker.” Lilah felt awful for forcing the woman to confess such a private, painful secret, but at least it proved her theory.

Walker passed his hand in front of her face, but Annie didn’t blink. Once she finished hopping, she simply stood and waited.

“This will be very useful,” he said at last.

“Only as a last resort,” she warned. “A mind is fragile, especially when it’s been taken over by someone else. If I try to control her for too long, I might cause permanent damage.” Lilah took her hand away.

Immediately Annie’s expression became confused. “Beg your pardon—what was that again?”

“I said, thank you.” Lilah forced a smile. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Chapter 12

Lake County, Florida

The inn by the lake had taken 125 years to acquire its genteel shabbiness, and most of the antique hunters who came to stay in its small rooms considered its squeaking staircases and temperamental plumbing to be part of its charm.

“The girl at the front desk said President Coolidge stayed in this room,” Gabriel heard his sygkenis say as she disappeared into the bath. “Is that why they haven’t cleaned these windows since nineteen thirty?”

He went to the bay windows and looked down at a wedding party being photographed by a small gazebo festooned with tiny white lights. The bride, a petite brunette whose lace and sequined gown surrounded her like a fat, sugarcoated meringue, beamed up at her groom, a reedy boy who tugged with nervous fingers at the confining grip of his black velvet bow tie.

“What’s so interesting?” Nicola appeared beside him and peered down. “Oh. Christ. Is that a wedding dress, or a parade float?”

His lover had been making caustic jokes since the flight they had chartered from Scotland had landed in Orlando. Gabriel knew the sarcasm served as a way to manage the stress of their mission. But there was something more to it this time; he could hear a specter of desperation haunting every biting word.

“We can go back,” he said, putting his arm around her. “I have only to call the airport, and we can be in Madrid by morning.”

“No, we can’t. We said we’d do this and we’re doing this.” She moved away, picking up her suitcase and placing it on the end of the bed. “You’d think they’d at least put one of those minibars in here. I doubt Coolidge’s ghost would be offended by the presence of overpriced soda and stale candy bars.” She removed the insulated pack that contained several units of human blood. “Did you see an ice machine anywhere in the hall?”

“Nicola.”

Her shoulders drooped as she dropped the pack back into the suitcase, and then turned and sat on the end of the bed. “You don’t want to have this conversation with me now, baby. Trust me. Just let it go.”

“You can say anything to me,” he assured her. “You know that.”

She eyed him. “I’ve never killed a vampire. Stupid, right? I’ve wanted to—I planned to for ten years—but actually doing one? Hasn’t happened yet.”

He came to sit beside her, and took her hand in his.

“It’s weird,” she said after a long silence. “Richard’s wife slaughtered my parents, turned me into a monster, and completely fucked up my life. If anyone deserves the top spot on the payback list, I think we can all agree it’s me.”

“You are not a killer, Nicola.”

She looked at him. “What about you? The Darkyn knew the holy freaks had snatched you in France. They knew exactly what they were doing to you. And when those bastards told them they’d tortured you to death, they didn’t check it out. They bought it. They forgot about you. End of Gabriel, end of story.”

“They sent Richard photographs of my decapitated body,” he reminded her. “He had no reason to suspect the images had been doctored, or that the Brethren would keep me alive for as long as they did.”

“I wish I could be as forgiving as you.” She got to her feet and wandered restlessly from one window to another. “When is this guy going to get here?”

As if to answer her, someone knocked on the door.

She went and checked through the peephole, and saw a large, handsome Latino wearing a dark blue uniform. “You expecting FedEx?”

Gabriel stood. “Richard uses them.”

She opened the door and smiled at the big courier. “Hi, there.”

“Ms. Jones?” When she nodded, he scanned the bar code on a padded mailer before handing it to her. “Have a good evening.”

“Thanks.” She closed the door and turned the mailer over. “Domestic. Atlanta.” She pulled the end tab and removed a neat file containing typed reports, photographs, and a map. Once she skimmed it, she brought it to Gabriel. “Everything but the kitchen sink.”

He reviewed the material more carefully. “The Kyndred female rented a house a few miles from here. The last person to see her alive dropped her off there after her car was stolen.”