Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body (17 page)

I think Shayla is cheering me on now. I can hear her voice in my head, in my heart, yelling, “It’s about time, you silly bastard.”

She’s right. She was always right.

Brady insisted on driving my truck, mostly because I couldn’t keep my hands steady long enough to put the key in the ignition. I sat in the passenger ’s seat and stared out the window, grateful he’d pressed the accelerator to the floor.

A mother’s worst nightmare was losing her child. In a way, I’d already lost Glory. Her desire to speak had died the same night as her father. She shut off a part of herself that no one could reach, not even me.

I knew that kind of hiding. To survive, some folks had to wrap up a little part of themselves and tuck it away. Life with Jacob required such sacrifice. So either I gave up my sanity or I shut off my emotions. It was easier to be a robot—at least until Glory was born.

“Start from the creek bank and work toward the forest behind the barn. Use the sensors. Call if you find anything. We’ll be there in ten.”

I looked at Brady and frowned. He wasn’t using a cell phone. “Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“My team. They’re already at your place. Damian’s got a team there, too.” He glanced at me, then took something from his right ear and gave it to me. “It’s a communication system. A com link.”

The device was the size of an earplug, except that it was silver and had a blue light on its top. The light flickered off. “How does it work?”

“It turns on when you put it in your ear. You can hear others with the same device and talk to them. It also translates everything it hears into English—or whatever language you request.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“No one has.” He took the com link from me and returned it to his right ear. “Shit!”

He swerved to avoid the rusted RV that hadn’t quite parked on the side of the road. Then Brady hit the brakes so he wouldn’t plow into the rambling truck in front of us. It pulled onto the shoulder, joining a long line of cars, campers, and trailers. We were near the turnoff that led to my house, and over here the forest was thick. Firelight danced between trees, flickering yellow fingers that clawed apart the darkness. People carrying sleeping bags, equipment, and sleeping children streamed into the woods.

“Roma,” I said. “Seems like they’re all showing up for the festival.”

“Does Broken Heart even have a hotel?”

“Not anymore. The only one we had was torn down by the Consortium. Though I hear a couple of Wiccans might open a bed and breakfast.”

“At least you can go there and eat now.”

Yeah. What a thrill. Brady’s attempt to lighten the mood was so not working. Argh! I could kill Flet for giving away my goddamned wish. I could’ve had it and used it to find my daughter. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I had to settle down. Get my mind off worrying.

“The Roma are all about communing with nature,” I said. “They don’t like hotels.”

“You sure know a lot about Roma.”

“The Consortium educated us. Just like going to Turn-blood college.” God, this conversation was moronic. We should be talking about Glory, about how to find her. I knew that I couldn’t do anything, and that was what drove me crazy. Brady and Damian’s men were the best in the world. If they couldn’t find her, I had no chance of tracking her. But I had to do something. Anything. Oh, Glory, baby, where are you?

“Almost there,” said Brady, his voice strained. He turned onto the dirt road and accelerated. I glanced at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel, and I saw a muscle working in his jaw. He was worried about her, too. I had the strangest urge to reassure him. Then I realized he hadn’t done much to reassure me.

“Why haven’t you told me everything’s going to be all right?” I flinched at the accusation in my tone.

His gaze flicked to me. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

I felt like he’d socked me in the stomach. I pressed a hand against my quivering belly. “Thank God you didn’t go into social work. You really suck at the comforting thing.”

“You want me to lie to you?”

Yes. No. I gritted my teeth and returned to looking out the window. Silence fell between us like a bag of rusty razors. I felt cut up and wounded by Brady’s choice to keep things real.

Moments later, we pulled into the gravel driveway. My grandmother stood on the porch, her sightless eyes aimed at us. I jumped out of the truck and ran to her. “Gran!”

“Oh, thank God, Simone.” She wrapped her spindly arms around me and squeezed. It was like getting hugged by a willow tree. I squeezed her back, envying her tears. I didn’t get to cry anymore, but I sure wanted to. In my mind thrummed a terrifying beat of findGloryfindGloryfindGlory.

“I don’t know what happened,” she sobbed. “We were sitting by the creek. I heard her moving around. She don’t talk, you know, but she’s restless. I can always hear her. And then . . . there was nothing. I called and called for her, and she never came. I dialed Damian right away, then you.”

“You did right.” We didn’t have police anymore—we had the lycans. Damian and his crew were our 911. I led my grandmother to her favorite rocking chair. “Go on and sit.”

“I can’t.” She faced me. “I gotta do something, baby.”

“How about making some lemonade? Glory loves it, and those men will be thirsty when they bring her home.”

My grandmother smiled. “I got plenty of lemons, thanks to our trees.”

Just like everything else that had ever been planted near the house, the lemon trees refused to thrive. So I sectioned off part of the back porch and built Gran her own little grove. We went online and bought a lot of damned dirt from an out-of-state gardening supply place. The three lemon trees bloomed and bore fruit. Gran made the best lemonade, lemon pies, lemon bars, lemon anything you ever ate.

If you were the kind of person who could still eat.

It had been seven kinds of wrong to be able to smell a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie from five blocks away, only to never be able to taste it. That was the true vampire curse. Now I could eat, but I couldn’t find my kid.

“Better make several pitchers,” I said, watching Gran walk to the front door.

“Maybe I’ll whip up some lemon bars, too,” she said.

“Sounds good.”

She smiled at me, and even though we both knew it was busy work, at least making lemonade and cookies was better than standing around worrying.

Brady was gone. He’d probably joined his team. I felt bad about how our conversation had ended. I shouldn’t expect so much from the man, but I did. I wanted him to make everything all right.

I’m sorry, I sent out tentatively. Being able to send thoughts into Brady’s head was kinda freaky.

I’m sorry, too. I’ll find Glory, I swear.

Thank you.

I wished I had a com link so I could hear what was going on. Even though I knew it was useless, I walked around the house. Nothing. No one. Just me making sneaker prints in the useless dirt.

I walked into the front yard and stood there, listening. Even twenty yards away, I heard the water’s quiet burbling. It seemed such a harmless thing, that creek. It was maybe ten feet wide and probably no more than six or seven feet deep. Glory could swim, so even if she’d accidentally fallen into it, she could’ve gotten back out. And Gran would’ve heard the splash.

No, Glory had wandered off—something she’d never done before. Why had my little girl left? Had she seen something? Or had someone stood at the edge of the woods and beckoned her? Dread pulsed at the base of my spine, and chills shot through me. I couldn’t think the worst. She hadn’t even been missing an hour. The only silver lining, or should I say gold lining, was that Flet was with her. It wasn’t much of a comfort, but it was something to hold on to. He had to be with her, otherwise he’d be here. Please keep her safe, Flet. Keep her safe, and you can have anything you want.

I stopped walking. What would happen if I called Flet to me? If I asked him to show us where Glory was?

“Flet,” I called. “Come to me.”

Seconds stretched into minutes. Shit. Either he was ignoring, something he wasn’t supposed to be able to do, or he was fulfilling my directive. Or, he was . . . well, he couldn’t be dead.

I was afraid to call again. If he was with my daughter, then at least she wouldn’t be as scared. I couldn’t help but think someone had taken her. But who? And why?

I studied the little pier jutting into the stream. It was old and the wood faded, but it was sturdy. Many evenings, I’d sat next to Glory on the end of that pier and dipped my feet into the cold water. She held my hand, content to just be. Glory had given me courage—and then she’d shown me how to find peace.

I couldn’t face the water, or those memories, so I rounded the house again.

I stood in the backyard and stared up at the barn. Had the door fallen because the hinges had finally rusted through? Or had someone tossed it onto me?

The mystery man.

“Hey, Simone.”

“Aaaahhh!” I spun around.

George stood behind me.

He threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Why would you startle me?” I yelled. “Just because my daughter’s now among the missing and people died right here!” I jabbed my finger at the ground. “And there’s a crazy guy running around town, doing his best to scare the living hell shit out of me. Yeah, George . . . why could you possibly startle me?”

“Sor-ry. Whew. Somebody needs a Valium.” He spread his hands out. “Chillax, man. I just wanted to see how you guys were doing. Elaine’s really freaked out.”

“She called you, didn’t she?”

He nodded. Then he jerked a thumb toward the back porch. “I’m gonna go in. Maybe you should go with me.”

I shook my head. I knew I should apologize to him, but I couldn’t get the words out. He’d scared me by dropping into my yard without warning. I hadn’t decided whether or not I liked him.

He said nothing else, just did that little salute thing again, then went into the house.

I walked up the hill. My hearing was good enough that I could hear their smoochy-smoochy, and I couldn’t handle it. It was wrong to not want my grandmother to be enamored of George. I supposed that I had created expectations for Gran. She’d been my rock, my sounding board, my saving grace. Being disgruntled that ol’ George was interrupting the status quo wasn’t fair. I’d been reminded that Gran was a person with the same kind of needs and hopes as everyone else. I was finding love (Did I really just think that?) with Brady. Why couldn’t Gran find the same with George?

By the time I wrestled free of my tangled thoughts, I found myself standing at the spot where Shawn lost his life.

I smelled the old, rusty tang of his blood. My vampire vision easily picked out the smear of red on the sun-washed boards. Guilt pierced me, as sharp and deadly as Jessica’s swords.

What had happened to him? Who had drained him? And Rick? Was it the same person, or was there a group? A year earlier, we’d been plagued by vampires known as Wraiths. As far as anyone knew, they were history.

So much had happened here. Like Gran said, with the sweet came the sour. We’d fought Wraiths, Ancients, dragons, and zombies. When would we finally be able to rest? To create a haven for our kind? A place of safety for our children?

I didn’t know if it were possible. The Invisi-shield offered the best hope. Keep us in and everyone else out.

I sighed, kicking at a clump of earth, which rolled a few inches and landed on something shiny. I kneeled down and retrieved the silver object.

A brooch.

Had the ripples reached Glory? Was she the first to pay the price for my failures?

“I told you, Mr. Silverstone, I’m not interested in anything you have t’offer.”

The female’s Irish brogue was rife with irritation. But I heard fear quiver in her voice, too. In front of me two figures appeared, wavering like ghosts in a Scooby-Doo cartoon. The woman faced a tall fellow whose polish and wealth were obvious in both his old-fashioned clothing and his mannerisms.

“If you don’t want your husband to lose the farm, I suggest you reconsider.”

“I’d rather have me respect and the love of me husband than the whole of Broken Heart tucked in me pocket. You won’t sully me, Mr. Silverstone.” She whirled around, and he grabbed her by the wrist.

“Let me go,” she yelled.

He captured her other hand and yanked her to his chest. “I will have you, Mary McCree.” He brought his mouth down on hers.

She plowed her knee into his groin.

He cried out, letting her go and grabbing at his crotch.

“Do it again, you filthy bastard, and I’ll cut ’em off.” She turned and ran.

The images faded to nothing.

I shoved the silver ornament into my pocket, my chest tight with grief and worry. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heels of my palms against the growing ache.

I wept as only a vampire can. My throat constricted and pain stabbed my eyes. But I had no tears. Only the anguish.

That’s probably why I didn’t sense the danger until it slammed me into the barn.

I went through the wall.

Shoulder first.

Skidded across the ground.

On my side.

Smacked into a moldy pile of hay.

And collapsed.

Dust plumed and caught in my lungs. Hay exploded into the air, falling on me, clinging to my hair and clothing.

I scrambled to my feet, my hip throbbing.

No one was there.

Whoever had shoved me through the wall had disappeared. I stood in the barn, trying to regain my composure. I listened as hard as I could, but heard nothing. No heartbeat, no heavy breathing, no slide of shoes on dirt.

I was alone.

I grabbed my cell phone, indulging in the automatic human reaction to call someone for help. I was a vampire, damn it. I didn’t need 911.

The phone was a mangled mess inside the holster. Shit. I used my vampire speed to return to the house. Fear pounded inside me like a heartbeat.

I expected to find my grandmother and George in the kitchen, but I found only three pitchers of lemonade and a mixing bowl filled with batter.