Frowning, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called her second favorite vampire, Jake Kincaid.
~ * ~
Kincaid frowned when he picked up his cell phone and saw Izabela’s name. What the devil did she want? he wondered as he muttered, “Hello.”
“I need to see you.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
Kincaid stroked his fingers over Rosa’s cheek. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“It’s about Saintcrow,” the witch said. “I think he’s in trouble.”
“I’ll be right there.”
~ * ~
The witch was waiting for him at the front door.
“I don’t mean you or anyone in your house any harm,” Kincaid said, before she could ask the ubiquitous question.
With a wry smile, she unlocked the screen door and invited him inside.
“So, what’s going on with Saintcrow?” he asked, perching on the edge of the sagging, dark green sofa.
She quickly told him about Saintcrow’s blood, the purple smoke, the vile taste.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
Izabela shook her head. “I have no idea. Have you ever heard of anything like it in your years as a vampire?”
“Hell, no.” Jake frowned. “You don’t think it could be some after-effect of destroying Luca? Or Eleni?” Saintcrow’s sire had been a conniving, jealous woman who had signed her own death warrant when she threatened Kadie’s life.
Looking thoughtful, Izabela settled into her favorite rocker. A moment later, her big black cat curled up in her lap and went to sleep. “I’ve never heard of a vampire concocting a death curse,” she mused, her brow furrowed. “But a necromancer...” Her voice trailed off.
“It can’t be Luca,” Kincaid said. “He’s been dead for years.” And then he frowned. “I remember he screamed something when the flames took him. I thought it was just a cry of pain. You don’t think...?”
Izabela tapped her forefinger against her lips. “I suppose it could have been a curse,” she remarked thoughtfully, and then muttered an oath. “The dark purple smoke that rose from the pyre,” she murmured, more to herself than Jake. “It was the same dark purple color as the smoke from Saintcrow’s blood.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The witch quickly brought him up to date. “But most curses die when the witch does.”
Eyes narrowed, Kincaid stared at the black crow who stood on its perch staring back at him. But it was Luca Sasan’s image he saw in his mind’s eye. The necromancer who had unleashed a hideous curse that had affected all the young vampires in Wyoming, turning them into the living dead, unable to move or speak. It had affected Saintcrow’s wife and sent Jake and Saintcrow on a journey to find and destroy the necromancer. It hadn’t been easy but they had prevailed in the end. Was it possible that Luca, who had been burned to death thanks to the combined efforts of Saintcrow, Kincaid, and Izabela, was exacting vengeance from the other side? And if so, how the hell did you fight a man who no longer existed?
“So, where do we go from here?” Kincaid asked. And grunted softly when Izabela slowly shook her head.
He felt an icy chill when her strange, yellow-flecked brown eyes met his and she murmured, “I have no idea.”
Chapter Three
Kadie sighed as she made the last edits on the summer brochure she had spent the last two weeks working on. Her career had undergone a lot of changes since she stumbled across the Morgan Creek bridge one rainy night. She had gone from freelance photographer to Chief Executive of Advertising for the town. Not only did the job give her a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, but the pictures she took were partly responsible for drawing people to Morgan Creek. Her photographs had even won an award or two.
But none of that mattered now, she thought, as she glanced out the living room window into the darkness beyond. Something was terribly wrong with the man she adored and she had no idea what was causing his distress or how to help him. He became more withdrawn every day and frequently snapped at her when she asked questions he couldn’t answer. From the little he had told her, she knew he was fighting an internal struggle of some kind, that some inner demon was tormenting him, urging him to kill his prey, to wreak havoc on the town, to unleash the ruthless vampire he had been centuries ago before he learned to control his rage and his hunger.
She was afraid to think of what Rylan was capable of if he surrendered to those impulses. She knew how powerful he was, how unrelenting he could be. She had been afraid of him the first time she saw him, afraid of the preternatural power that radiated from him. He had kept her here, in Morgan Creek, against her will, and she had hated him for it. Only gradually, as she was forced to be in his presence, had she seen the softer side of him that few ever witnessed. Over time, her hatred had turned to compassion and then love. And because she couldn’t think of living without him, she had accepted the Dark Gift, not once, but twice.