Embrace the Twilight (18 page)

“Where are you taking me?”

Stiles smiled, his gaze meeting one of the other men's as he said, “Oh, it's an old place, in Byram, Connecticut. Been in the family for years.” The two grinned wider, sharing an inside joke.

“Your family?” Amber asked.

“No. Yours.” He laughed, but the sound turned into a cough that doubled him over for a moment. Then the six of them wrapped her in some sort of heavy, dark blanket and led her out of the house. The minute they set foot outside the door, the woman jabbed Amber's arm with something, and within another heartbeat, she was sinking to the floor. Whatever it was, it hit her like a train wreck.

When she woke, Amber was in a bedroom that could have been an ordinary bedroom in an ordinary, if very old, house. Except that the door had been removed and a barred iron one stood in its place. Similar bars lined both the tall windows, she noted, when she went to them to stare outside. The house stood above steep, rocky cliffs that dropped straight to the sea. Or maybe not—she could see a shore on the far side, even though the only light was from the brilliant nearly full moon shining down on the water. A lake, then? Where the hell was she? God, she must have been unconscious for hours.

There were men—soldiers—down below the bedroom window, standing among the brush on the ill-kept lawn. There was a tall wrought-iron fence with a leaf and vine pattern, and spikes at the top, that seemed to surround the place.

She remembered, then, the things her father had told her about these people—because they had to be the same people, didn't they? The DPI might have been destroyed in the vampire rebellion in the year of her birth, but some of its hunters had survived.
Still
survived. Her father had told her of capture, of torture. The cruel experiments they had performed on vampires. And how badly they had wanted her when she'd only been a baby, to use as their prize guinea pig.

And now they had her. God, what would they do to her?

Fear stabbed her in the chest in the form of a painful, wrenching sob. She closed her eyes, but the tears fell all the same. Brushing them away angrily, Amber wrenched the window open, wrapped her strong hands around the bars and shook them with all her strength.

They didn't budge. Not even a wiggle.

She tried the other window, with the same result. Crossing the room, she gripped the barred door and pulled. Again. And again. She pulled until the skin on the pads of her palm had rubbed away, with no resulting give in the bars.

Trapped. She was trapped here. A prisoner of the DPI. Just as her mother had been, when they'd buried her alive in a dark, concrete tomb and left her to die there.

Amber sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and crying hard enough to shake her heart to pieces.

 

Sarafina fled the room, the house. She didn't take the car; she went on foot, out into the night, wearing only the red satin robe, barefoot. She was weeping as she ran. And running from something, though she had no idea what. Not from Willem. He couldn't hurt her. Not anymore.

For one instant it was almost as if she had been swept back in time, far, far back to the days of her youth. Her
true
youth. Certainly she looked as young now, but she felt every one of her years. Then she'd been new, young, fragile and innocent. And she'd raced through the night after Bartrone had changed her, made her feel everything a thousand times as intensely as before—made her hurt more, want more, hunger for more.

She had denied all the things he'd told her, and she'd raced back to her home. Her camp. Her family. Barefoot, dressed only in her nightdress, she had run in the darkness.

And there she had found them, all of them, her kin, gathered around a small child, a boy, who lay very pale and still.

“I've tried to cover for my sister as long as I can,” Katerina said softly. “But I cannot do it any longer. She is in league with the demon. I saw her myself, saw her murder this innocent child, just as she murdered Belinda before him, and so many others.”

A gasp went up from the family. Katerina looked across the fire, meeting Andre's eyes. “It's true,” he said. “I've seen it myself. Katerina and I hoped we could save her from the evil, but it has her in its grip now. It has her. I loved her, but she is no more.”

“She must be cast out,” Katerina said. “God, how it breaks my heart to say it of my own sister!” Covering her face with her hands, she wept loudly. Andre, too, lowered his head and dabbed at his eyes.

The others all nodded in solemn agreement.

“Sad as it is, it must be done,” Gervaise agreed. “Go, gather her things, all her belongings. Bring them to the fire. We must burn them, just as we would had she died. For she is dead to us now. It is the only way.”

Nodding, they all moved away. All except for Katerina, because Sarafina's betrothed took her by the wrist when all eyes were turned away and tugged her into the cover of the trees. And there he stared intensely into her eyes. “You've hidden away anything of value?”

“Of course. Sarafina had pouches of gold and silver, from her readings. And there's her crystal, and her jewelry. I have them all hidden safely. Don't worry.”

He smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and pulling her close to him. “And what about her?”

“Dead by now. I left her for the demon to feed upon.”

“Then we can be together,” he muttered. “At last.” He pulled her close, kissing her passionately. “Your sister no longer stands in the way of our happiness.”

Sarafina's heart broke when she saw what they had done to her. Her own sister and her own beloved. They had plotted against her, demonized her, tried to murder her, and then turned the entire clan against her. And the child. Had they sacrificed an innocent child in order to make her appear guilty?

She looked at the dead boy and knew by some instinctive sense that he had not died at the hand of any vampire.

She stepped out of the shadows, into the small clearing in the trees where they embraced. “Make no mistake, my loved ones. I will
always
stand in the way of your happiness.”

Gasping, the two tugged apart, whirling to stare at her, shock in their eyes.

“You told me she was dead!” he hissed.

Some of the others heard Sarafina's cry and gathered around.

“Look at her!” Katerina cried. “Look at her eyes, how they glow. Her skin, how pale.” She yanked a polished metal mirror from her pocket and held it up. “She casts no reflection!”

“Don't be a fool!” Sarafina shouted, and she yanked the mirror from her sister's hand and stared into it, disbelieving what she saw. Her tongue ran over her teeth, and she felt the incisors, longer and sharper than they had ever been.

Bartrone had been telling the truth!

“Go!” Katerina shouted. “Before we send our men to hunt you like the animal you are.”

“Animal I may be, but
Shuvani
still!” Sarafina lifted her hands and made the sign of the oldest curse she knew. “You, my beloved Andre, will die young for your betrayal. Not another decade will you see. And I declare now that one of your offspring, or their offspring, or one of theirs, will share this curse I must bear, for I am your sister, Katerina, and my blood is your blood. What lives in me lives in you, and as I am, so will one of your descendants be.
Vampire!
And you will live to see it.”

“No!” Katerina made the warding sign with her fingers, but it was too late, Sarafina knew. She had felt her curse wing forth with a power all its own, and she knew—
she knew
—it would come to pass.

Then she turned and ran into the forest, ran toward the demon who was the only being she could trust.

She had loved Andre, and she had believed him when he said he loved her, too.

She had loved Katerina, and she had believed her love, too, was real, deep down beneath the animosity and jealousy.

She came to love Bartrone, in time, and more than ever before, she had believed his declarations of love for her.

But Andre had blasphemed her love, and Katerina had betrayed her to death, and Bartrone had abandoned her to life alone, with no one.

Until Dante. With Dante, Sarafina had let herself love just once again. Until he, too, had betrayed her, chosen another over her.

And now, tonight, she ran until she finally sank weakly upon a boulder and lowered her head to cry.

It had been ages since a man had touched her as deeply as Willem Stone had done. Had pleasured her as intensely. Had kissed her as passionately. Had whispered words of love to her as sincerely…

God, he said he loved her.

But only because she had made of him a mindless drone, like Misty and Edward. Only because he craved the blood only she could give him. They said they loved her, too, and thought they meant it.

But
his
declarations had been different. More intense. More real. Or maybe it was only that some idiotic, weak-willed part of her wanted them to be.

It terrified her that her heart had responded so readily, so hungrily, to hearing those words. As if love were the drug to which she was addicted. Love, the thing she could not live without.

Even when it was only an illusion.

When she looked at Willem, she didn't see a man whose will had been broken and twisted until all that remained was the desire to please her. She saw the man he'd been before. It was
that
man, in her mind, who made love to her. That man who declared that he loved her, would die for her, and made her believe it was true.

But it wasn't. It couldn't be. Not ever.

And that was why she wept. And it was the desire for that from which she ran.

B
y the time the four of them reached Rhiannon's exclusive neighborhood, Angelica was barely able to stand on her own. Rhiannon knew better than to doubt the woman's sense that something was terribly wrong.

Before she had even exited the cab, Rhiannon saw the broken remains of her entry door, which looked as if it had been smashed in with a battering ram. As the taxi pulled away, Angelica saw it, too, and screamed. Jameson took his arms from around her for the first time since they had left the plane, and he ran into the house, shouting for Amber Lily. Without him to hold her upright, Angelica sank to the ground, weeping, shaking her head. “She's not here,” she said. “She's not here.”

Rhiannon shot Roland a look and a message. His eyes replied. He would see to her. And even as he bent to scoop Angelica up into his arms, Rhiannon raced into the house.

Her home.

They hadn't trashed it. But they'd been messy. Careless. Things were toppled, strewn about as if they'd been searching the place. She went into the bedroom, opening her senses, feeling for any hint of a presence. And she felt one. She met Jamey's eyes and knew he felt it, too.

She dropped to her knees and peered under the bed.

Alicia shrieked and folded her body more tightly around itself, hiding her face.

“Come out, child, it's all right. No one can hurt you now. Come.”

Trembling, Alicia lowered her hands from her face, revealing only her eyes. “Aunt Rhiannon?” she asked.

“Yes, it's me. Roland is here, as well, as are Jameson and Angelica. You're safe now. And you have to come out.”

Alicia closed her eyes against a flood of tears. “Angelica's here?”

“Child, I am growing weary of having a conversation while standing on my head. Contrary to pop fiction, I do not double as a bat. Come out from under that bed before I'm forced to pull you out by whatever appendage I can reach.”

Alicia nodded in jerky motions and uncurled her body, rolling from her side onto her back. Then she slid out from under. The moment she did, Jameson gripped her hands and hauled her to her feet. “What happened? Where's Amber?” he demanded.

“I don't know. Some men came. She shoved me under the bed. They took her.” Her chest heaved between words, breaking her sentences into barely intelligible barks. “Where's my mom?”

“She'll be here soon,” Jameson said. “We phoned her from home.” Rhiannon sent him a sharp glance. “I knew something was wrong here, Rhiannon, even though you refused to tell me. I had to let Susan know. She will meet us here.” Then he returned his attention to Alicia. “Now tell me what happened to Amber.”

Alicia's body bent, jerking with her sobs. “Amber only went with them to protect me. She could…have fought. But they were searching. They'd have…found me.”

“Where did they take her? Where, dammit?” Jameson had the girl by the shoulders and was a heartbeat away from shaking her.

Rhiannon grasped one of his shoulders and spun him firmly away from her. “This child is traumatized.”

Roland came in, Angelica at his side, walking under her own power now. She went to Alicia, gathered the girl into her arms, and held her close as they both cried. “It's not your fault, Alicia,” she said softly. “Don't think any of us blame you for this. They stole her from me once, too. I know you'd have stopped it if you could.”

“I should have tried,” she whispered into Angelica's hair. “I should have tried even if it killed me, but God, I was so scared, I couldn't even move.”

Rhiannon often thought Alicia was far more like Angelica than Amber was, but she would never say it aloud. “Come to the kitchen. I keep herbal teas for the housekeeper. I believe there's a chamomile and lavender blend that will help calm you, Alicia. And then you have to tell us everything, as calmly as you can.”

“But it's too late,” she sobbed.

“Nonsense. It's 11:00 p.m. Which gives us plenty of time to hunt these suicidal thugs down and make them wish they'd never been born.”

She nodded. Rhiannon hurried to the kitchen, put water on to warm, quickly located the box of herbal teas and pulled out a chair. Angelica brought Alicia in slowly, the two of them shuffling along as if they'd been severely beaten. Rhiannon had to bite her lip to keep from snapping at them.

Angel helped Alicia into a chair, then took one herself.

“Time is of the essence,” Roland said, very gently, and Rhiannon knew he'd felt her impatience. “Please, tell us all that transpired.”

“Well…we kept seeing this man. Several times when we went out, he…seemed to be following us. And he took a hotel room right next to ours. I think he was DPI, or one of those rogue agents we've heard you talk about—the ones who survived. Then we met this vampire at a club and—”

“What
kind
of club?” Jameson demanded.

Alicia looked up, guilt all over her face, as she searched for an answer.

“I hardly think that's of any importance at the moment,” Rhiannon said.

He scowled at her, but nodded. “What about the man? What did he look like?”

She lowered her head. “He looked…hard. Strong. He was tall and had dark hair…and he walked with a cane.”

Jameson closed his eyes as if in pain.

“What is it?”

“That was Willem Stone, the man I hired to watch over the girls.”

Alicia clapped a hand to her mouth as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “Oh my God! I didn't know. We…we didn't know.”

“We're aware of that,” Rhiannon said. “Go on, child.”

Alicia nodded. “I didn't think we should approach the vampiress, but Amber said she thought the woman was okay. So she told her about the man following us.”

“And what did she do?”

Alicia sniffled. “I didn't think she would, at first, but as soon as she realized who Amber was, she agreed to help. She told us to just go back to our hotel, that she would take care of it. At least, that is what Amber told me. They didn't speak to each other out loud, you know?”

The teapot squealed. Rhiannon started to rise, but Roland placed a hand on her shoulder. “I'll get it.” And to Alicia, “Go on.”

“We—we left the club. And he followed us, just as he'd been doing. But she followed
him.
Oh, God, I didn't know he was only trying to protect us.”

“What did she do to him, Alicia?” Jameson asked. He stood beside her chair, his hands clenched into fists.

“She…we saw her—she fed from him.”

“Killed him?” Rhiannon asked.

“I don't know! Amber didn't think so. She—the lady—she tossed him into a limousine and took him away. We thought our problems were over, but then we got back to the hotel. Amber wanted to search his room, to try to find out what he was up to. So we did, and we found these headphones, and when we listened to them we could hear voices. Men's voices. They were coming from our own room, next door.” She sucked in a spasmodic gulp of air. “They were waiting for us!”

Roland set the tea in front of her. Rhiannon thought it fortunate he'd cooled it with tap water or she would have burned her mouth, as quickly as she gulped from the cup.

“We thought he must be working with them.” Alicia's tears flowed like rivers.

“But you eluded them,” Rhiannon prompted.

“We took the stairs and used the rear entrance. And then we made our way here. We thought it was safe here. But they found a note in Amber's jeans pocket back at the hotel. The address was on it. They smashed the door in, and they took Amber.”

“How long ago?” Jameson asked.

“It was about midmorning. We'd been up late, and we were still sleeping, but it must have been…I don't know. Maybe 10:00 a.m.”

Angelica winced as she glanced at the kitchen clock.

“It doesn't mean anything,” Roland told her. “You know as well as I that they'll want to keep Amber alive.”

“And you know as well as I what they want to keep her alive for!” Angelica shot to her feet, gripping Jameson by the front of his shirt. “We have to find her.”

“We will.” He covered her hands with his, lifted them to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “I swear to you, we will.

“Alicia, I want you to remember everything you heard from the moment those men came in until they left with Amber. Did they say anything—
anything—
about where they were taking her?”

“No. Nothing.” She closed her eyes. Then popped them open again. “Wait. There was something…something about an ancestral home in…oh, God, help me remember.” She squeezed her eyes closed very tightly, screwing up her face as if trying to force the memory out. “It was like an inside joke, the way they said it. Amber's ancestors, not their own, they said. And they laughed.”

Jameson frowned hard, staring from Rhiannon to Roland to Angelica.

“Connecticut!” Alicia burst out. “Brian or Byron or…”

“Byram,” Jameson said.

“My God, Eric's old place,” Roland said.

“Then you know? You know where they've taken her?”

Angelica searched Jameson's eyes, her own echoing Alicia's hopeful question. Jameson nodded. “Yes.”

“We'll go at once,” Rhiannon said, rising to her feet.

“There are one or two things to consider first,” Roland said, taking her hand. “We'll need to get Alicia to safety. We'll have to arrange for shelter in Byram, in case we can't get Amber out before sunrise. And I should think we'll want to find the strange vampiress, learn what she's done with this Stone fellow.”

Rhiannon thought she would rather enjoy dealing with the addle-minded vampiress who had attacked the girls' bodyguard, leaving them defenseless against the vampire hunters. Then she modified her thoughts. Amber Lily was anything but defenseless. “This vampiress, Alicia. Remind me, what was her name?”

Alicia lifted her head. “The one Amber told you about on the phone. Sarafina.”

Rhiannon's eyes narrowed.

“You know her?” Angelica asked.

“I've heard of her. I make it my business to know what other immortals haunt the places where I live.”

“She may not have killed him after all,” Jameson said. “I believe they have…a history. What else do you know about her, Rhiannon?” he asked.

“She's a hermit, keeps to herself in a palatial estate north of the city.”

“We can't take time to search for her now. Not even for the sake of this Willem Stone,” Angelica said. “God only knows what they might be doing to my baby. We have to go to her.
Now.
”

Rhiannon stared at Alicia. “Darling, are you certain they didn't know you were hiding in the room when they said what they did?”

Alicia nodded. “Amber told them I'd gone home. They wondered why she hadn't gone with me, but then they just assumed it was because of the daylight. She didn't correct them.”

Rhiannon sent Roland a glance and a message.
It's too easy. Something's wrong.

He heard her thoughts just as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud, and from the worried frown he returned, she thought he agreed. But she knew, as he did, that they had to go. They had no choice.

“For the love of God, what's happened?” a woman's voice asked from the next room.

Alicia surged to her feet. “Mom?”

Susan came hurrying into the kitchen. Alicia met her in the doorway, hurling herself into her mother's arms, weeping all over again. “I got your message at the spa, caught the first flight out. What on earth is going on?”

“We'll explain it all in the car. You…you do have a car here, don't you, Rhiannon?” Jameson asked.

“Several, in the garage in back.” She left the room and returned with several sets of keys. She didn't speak again until they were in the garage. Rhiannon's private collection of cars could only be accessed by punching a combination into a keypad. Once inside, she went on. “I would suggest you two take the Ferrari,” she said, tossing one set of keys to Susan. “It will outrun just about anything on the roads. Go to Eric and Tamara's place in Virginia. You remember how to find it?”

Susan nodded, turned and pressed the button on the keyring to unlock the small red Ferrari. Alicia hugged Angelica. “I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“I know, darling. It's not your fault.”

Alicia sniffled, then glanced at Rhiannon. “Get Amber back.”

“Don't doubt it, Alicia. We will.”

 

When Willem woke, he felt as if he'd been on a three-day drunk. His head alternated between swimming and throbbing, and when he got to his feet, he fell over. God, his balance was shot to hell, and his bad foot was screaming. He hadn't had pain meds since he'd been here.