Drawing Blood (39 page)

Stryker arrived with his usual speed and searched the area. He appeared by Holly’s side before she knew it.

“He’s down,” he whispered in her ear.

“Connor? What do you mean?” Holly said turning to him.

“No, not Connor. The body guard. He’s dead.” He spoke without emotion, but Holly knew what teamed beneath his calm. It took a lot to kill a vampire, especially one of Stryker’s men. It had to be the work of a bloodstalker. Connor in the hands of a bloodstalker. It was unimaginable.

“Tell Avery and Stephen, but no one else. I hate to upset them further but they deserve to know the truth. They’ll understand that Connor has to be the priority. He’s still alive. I can feel it.” He nodded to the stricken Jessica and Aaron. “Get them home. Keep them safe. I’ll send you more men to watch the house.”

* * * *

Back home, Avery, Stephen and Holly tried their best to reassure Jessica and Aaron. They put them to bed, promising that Connor would be home in the morning. Exchanging looks, they silently vowed to make it the truth. Holly didn’t know what to say to her friends and the look on Avery’s face told her that she shouldn’t even try. Words wouldn’t help. She needed action.

The local police did all they could, but there was no sign of the little boy. Stephen and Avery went to the police station. Holly promised to stay with the finally sleeping Jessica and Aaron. They needed to see the face of a loved one should they wake in the night.

Alone with the kids, time ticked away as she paced up and down the living room. Why hadn’t she heard from Stryker? He must know the hell she was going through. Holly stopped pacing. No. She had to stop thinking about herself. It was better that Stryker was out there somewhere trying to get Connor back. She trusted him. She believed that if anyone could rescue Connor, Stryker could. There was nothing she could do but wait.

Frustrated with her impotence, she searched for something constructive to occupy her time. It finally came to her. What the hell? Now was as good a time as any and it was worth a try. Forcing her legs to stop moving, she sat on the couch. Closing her eyes she tried to empty her mind and concentrate solely on Stryker. Their connection was getting ever stronger. They were bloodmates, if he could walk in her dreams, who said she couldn’t connect with him over distances?

* * * *

Three hours. Connor had been missing three long hours. Stryker couldn’t bear to think what could happen to a small boy in such a long time, especially in the hands of a bloodstalker. He consoled himself with the knowledge that human children were not usually the bloodstalker’s prey. There was still a chance that Connor was unharmed. Stryker searched everywhere at once trying to catch the scent of the kidnapper. He could tell it was the same bloodstalker they’d been searching for. The bastard smelled the same. Connor wasn’t harmed on site or Stryker would have tasted his pain and terror. No, Connor wasn’t frightened which meant he was probably unconscious. At last, Stryker finally lost the trail. The kidnapper had used the highway.

Stryker refused to go back to Holly with no information. He had all his people on it. He’d called out a general alert, but he knew that despite all their efforts, they wouldn’t find Connor until the kidnapper wanted them to. All they could do now was wait for the ransom demand.

Sitting astride his horse, Stryker felt closer to nature. The scent was easier to catch when not polluted by automobile exhaust. Besides, Dakota could move as fast as any car and there was no comparison when it came to maneuverability. He longed to give the stallion his head and taste the speed he was capable of, but he reined in the impulse. He had to maintain his calm and be prepared to act on a dime should he learn anything significant. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He felt the vibration of his Blackberry and prayed for good news.

It was a text message and its content was so disturbing Dakota could sense his rider’s tension and tossed his head in reaction. The message read:

Vampire, it’s you I want. Cooperate, and Connor will live. Take Hwy 11 south. Will contact with further instructions. Tell no one or the child dies.

There it was. The demand. As he’d expected, it came to him, not the boy’s parents. Stryker didn’t hesitate, he turned Dakota to the south and they took off.

* * * *

Stephen and Avery returned home about an hour later. They had no good news to share with Holly. In turn, she had none for them. After a brief moment of contact, she’d lost psychic connection with Stryker. Her experiment had been moderately successful. Mentally, she felt him for a while, but in the end she lost him. Had he shut her out? Unsure of what that meant, Holly didn’t share her concern with her friends. They had enough to deal with.

Stephen stared hollow-eyed out the window while Avery paced. Her keen gaze moved from one object to another, refusing to rest in any one place for too long. They waited. Agonized.

When the phone rang, Holly and Stephen looked at each other hopefully. Avery picked it up before the first ring was finished. The police had a trace on the line, but no one really had any hope it would prove fruitful.

Avery’s hand shook and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the receiver. Stephen and Holly waited anxiously. The call lasted only a few seconds and Avery said very little on her end of the conversation.

“Yes. Yes.” She hung up.

“I know where he is!” She explained as she ran. “I’ve got an address. They said he was fine.” She glanced over her shoulder at Stephen, her control finally slipping. “You better drive.”

* * * *

Holly couldn’t rest until she knew Connor was okay. Millions of questions ricocheted off the walls of her mind. If Connor was okay, then what had happened to him? Who had rescued him? Where was Stryker? She took Avery’s place and paced up and down again in the exact same spot as her friend had just minutes before. Her cell phone rang forty-five minutes later.

It was Avery.

“He’s okay.” They both started to cry. “He’s been drugged, but Stephen says he’s going to be fine. We’re on our way home now.”

Holly didn’t say a word. Huge sobbing gulps heaved in her chest as she collapsed on the sofa. He was safe. What a blessing. If anything had happened to him…it was beyond comprehension. Slowly she brought herself under control. Taking deep breaths, she eventually stopped hiccoughing.

Finally, she smiled. Thank God, everything was going to be okay now.

Her feeling of relief was short lived. Slicing through her chest, a pain so sharp ripped her feet out from under her. She cried out, clutching the leather sofa cushion. A shaky hand against her heart proved she wasn’t bleeding, but nevertheless she felt blood gushing as if from a mortal chest wound. Her hand was clean, no blood, no injury at all. What the hell?

She felt bile rise in her throat and forced it down. She didn’t know how, but in that moment, she understood. The horror struck her full force and all of a sudden she knew with a certainty that almost stopped her heart. Stryker was down.

Chapter 30

For the moment, there was nothing Holly could do about it. Jessica and Aaron were sleeping upstairs. She’d have to wait for their parents to get home before going after Stryker. Where to start? She ran to the door and called out to the men she knew were watching the house. Almost before the words were out of her mouth a huge man appeared. He didn’t get the chance to say a word. Holly launched into commands.

“Tell Declan that Stryker’s been taken. He gave himself over in Connor’s place. I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s hurt.” She barely finished her words and the man was on his cell.

When he’d finished the call, he nodded to her. “We’ll take it from here.”

She had no idea what more she could do standing outside in the dark so she thanked the large man and walked back into the house. She had an inkling of an idea. Was there something more constructive she could try?

Sitting on the couch in the living room, Holly desperately tried to calm her racing heart. It wasn’t easy. She’d been drawing the future since she could hold a pencil, but tonight was the first time she’d force the ability or die trying. She’d work on it until she succeeded even if the attempt broke every blood vessel in her body. She didn’t care. She had to find Stryker and this was all she could do at the moment.

Clear the mind, breath in and out, in and out. Visions of Stryker tortured, bleeding, dying…kept pushing their way into her mind. With a determined strength of will, she nudged them aside.

Holly slid from the couch to the floor and grabbed the crayon and notepad that lay on the coffee table. Staring blankly at the wall, she concentrated on the mundane and started doodling with the crayon. After what seemed like a lifetime, her left hand moved across the paper of its own accord.

She drew, but Holly wasn’t aware of it. Finally her fingers stopped moving, her eyes focused and blinking rapidly, she could make out the west wall of Avery’s living room. Everything was in its place. Afraid to look down at the paper and see useless scribbling, she took a deep breath and forced her gaze down toward what she’d drawn.

She’d done it! This wasn’t just chicken scratch. Hope filled her chest as she picked up the paper to get a closer look.

What she saw made her want to scream…not in fear, but in frustration. All she’d drawn was a vaguely familiar landscape with farmhouse and barn.

“What’s the point? You desert me just when I need you most.” She spoke to her raised left hand, at her wit’s end.

Teeth clenched, she grabbed the offending sketch and crushed it in her hand. With all her strength, she threw the crumpled ball against the wall, but taking frustration out on the paper did no good. She threw like a girl and the projectile was too light to land with the even the softest of satisfying sounds. The paper lightheartedly sailed through the air, mocking her.

The tears fell. With an effort she tried to keep her sobs muffled. She didn’t want to wake the children. If they saw her in such a state they wouldn’t believe that Connor was safe. She had to do something, but knew of nothing that could be done, so instead she paced, just as Avery had. On her second circuit of the room she stepped on something and looked down only to see that damned paper ball again. Swinging her foot back, she prepared to kick it across the room, but at the last minute she changed her mind. Kicking the thing would be no more satisfying than throwing it had been.

She paused. Not so fast, maybe… Holly picked up the crumpled paper ball and smoothed it flat on the coffee table. Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough. Was she missing something? And if she was, could it be important?

She studied what she’d drawn. Finally, something twigged. Was it possible? Maybe…yes, the scene was familiar, but why? Holly searched the drawing for information. Of course! She recognized the house in the distance. She’d been in that house...by that lake. They’d vacationed there when she’d been very young. Where was it? At the time she’d been too young to take note of the house’s location. It wasn’t far from
Toronto
, that much was certain. Alan Seaton wouldn’t have wanted to be far from his business. The thought of the man she’d believed was her father made Holly shudder.

Was the picture as innocent as it had first appeared? Why draw that place now? There had to be a reason. She decided to trust her instincts. The drawing had to be significant, if she could only figure out why.

Could this be where Stryker was being held? If that were true, her father had to be involved with the kidnapping. Could he be that far gone as to kidnap a child? How had she missed it all these years? Is it possible? Of course it is! How foolish she’d been! Alan Seaton had Stryker! With a certainty she could feel in the marrow of her bones, Holly knew she was right.

With shaking hands, she dialed the phone number of the house she’d once called home. Thankfully, Matthew answered on the third ring. She didn’t explain much, the catch in her voice transmitted immediately the urgency of her call.

“I remember the place,” he said.

“Where is it?”