In the Blood

34 LIMITLESS DEPTHS

Seattle, WA

March 24

SHERIDAN WATCHED ON THE mini-mon as the Trans Am pulled into Wallace’s driveway. The headlights went out. The passenger door opened and Dante Prejean stepped out of the car. Streetlight shimmered along his leather pants and latex shirt, gleamed blue in his hair.

Prejean strode down the driveway and Sheridan couldn’t help but admire his smooth and predatory grace. He also noticed that the vampire’s body language whispered of coiled muscles, of agitation. Of hunger.

Prejean glanced up the street in both directions, skimmed a hand through his hair, then turned and paced up the driveway.

Interesting. Waiting for someone, but not happy about it.

Let’s see who.

DANTE WALKED AROUND THE car to Heather, gravel crunching beneath his boots. It had started sprinkling again, more of a mist than actual rain, and droplets of water glistened on her black trenchcoat, jeweled her hair.

“If this goes south, and Lyons leaves with you,” she said, her voice husky, pained, “I will find you. I won’t give up. Do you hear me, Baptiste?”

Dante cupped Heather’s rain-cool face. “I hear you, chérie. And ditto.” He lowered his face to hers. “For luck.” He kissed her and she kissed him back hard, her lips parting beneath his, her hands on his hips.

Inside, the droning wasps washed away beneath a wave of white silence and the pain in Dante’s head eased.

The deep rumbling of a powerful engine drew Dante’s head up. He released Heather. “Truck coming.”

“Which direction?” She reached inside her trench for her gun. “Lyons drives a Dodge Ram.”

“East.”

Headlight glare stabbed blue-white light into Dante’s eyes. Pain pierced his head, ratcheted his headache into high gear. Squinting, he lifted a hand to shield his eyes.

The rumble stopped. The headlights winked out. Brilliant pinpoints flecked Dante’s vision. He plucked his shades from his shirt front and slid them on.

Heather studied the red truck parked against the curb, yellow parking lights glowing. “Is Annie with him?”

Dante saw only one occupant in the truck’s shadowed interior—Lyons. Filtering out the steady rhythm of Heather’s heart, he listened. The truck contained one heartbeat, a mortal’s fast, smooth patter. Dante’s hands curled into fists.

“No. She’s not with him.” Dante refused to voice the other possibility—she was with him, but her heart no longer beat.

“Shit,” Heather whispered.

The passenger window slid down with a low hum. A thin coil of cigarette smoke curled out, disappearing in the drizzle. “Put the gun down, Heather,” Lyons called.

“Where’s Annie?” Dante asked as Heather bent and placed her gun on the gravel at the driveway’s edge.

“Somewhere.” Amusement buoyed Lyons’s voice, amusement Dante wanted to prick full of holes.

Heather straightened. “How do we know Annie’s all right?” she asked.

“You’ll just have to take my word for it. That’s the only option available.”

No, it ain’t.

Closing his eyes, Dante pushed the pain throbbing in his head below, and focused his thoughts. He reached for Lyons’s mind. And bounced against a steel-smooth shield. Dante’s eyes flew open. Squiggles of light edged his vision. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“You okay?” Heather’s hand grasped his arm.

“I was wondering when you’d try that,” Lyons said.

“He’s a telepath,” Dante said. Blood hot trickled from his nose. He wiped at it with the back of his hand. “I can’t get past his shields. Not without a fight.”

“Shit.” Heather released his arm. “How do we get Annie back?” she called. “What do you want?”

“I want Dante to listen to a little something on my iPod,” Lyons said.

“I thought you wanted him to heal your sister,” Heather said.

“I do,” Lyons agreed. “But I also want to see how well he follows instructions.”

“Fuck you,” Dante said. “Throw me the damned iPod already.”

“I’ll send it to you,” Lyons replied.

As Dante mulled over that comment—Send? As in e-mail? As in fucking FedEx?—he felt a surge of power, electric and strong, and a small shape floated out of the truck’s passenger window. An iPod sailed up the driveway on a rippling wave of energy.

Dante stared as the iPod stopped in front of him at chest level, hovering in the air on tiny pulsations of energy. He looked at Lyons. Shadows and light crosshatched the mortal’s face. Not only a telepath, but telekinetic. That gift was rare even among nightkind from what Dante knew. Natural or more of his dad’s tampering?

Dante closed his fingers around the iPod and snatched it from the air. The moment he did, Heather’s gun floated up from the foot of the drive like a wind-caught leaf. It fluttered over to the truck and in through the open window.

“He’s not going to listen to that until we have Annie back!” Heather yelled.

“I really don’t want to hurt your sister, so don’t force me,” Lyons said. “Dante has ten seconds to comply, then I’m driving away.”

Truth and mingled lies wove the fabric of Lyons’s words. Dante knew he’d hurt Annie with little hesitation.

“Don’t listen to the iPod. I think he’s trying to trigger you.” Heather looked at Dante, her eyes nearly black with emotion. “There’s got to be another—”

“Move away from me, chérie,” Dante whispered. “Get outta reach.”

Jaw tight, eyes glistening, Heather backed away from him.

Dante worked the earbuds into his ears, then, heart hammering against his ribs, he touched the play arrow. A smooth voice burrowed into his ears.

“S, time to awaken, my Sleeping Beauty. You have work to do.”

A familiar voice. One Dante still couldn’t name. Pain ripped through his mind, rising up from below and shredding his thoughts, his sense of self. Voices, whispering, screaming, and everything in between, cycloned up from the shattered depths. Droning wasps winged up in a dark and furious cloud, needling venom into his heart.

Pain shoved him below.

And Dante tumbled into limitless depths.

The unnamed voice continued to speak.