Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) (25 page)

The statement gave Amado pause. As he mulled over the words, he decided he had to return to his studio, and talk to Meghan. There had to be a way to induce her that Sebastien’s offer was valid and the safest option when considering Declan’s taunting threats. Despite his feelings, and realizing he couldn’t be with her, her safety was more important.

“I’ll speak to DeClerq, and ask him to help me convince Meghan to stay with him.” He mused aloud.

“If you’re keeping company with him, you fucked up.” Jared chastised.

Amado’s brow furrowed. He waited, taking a long drink from the bottle while he composed his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to affront The Brotherhood of Blood by having a direct association with a creature that hunted vampires!

“I’m not certain.” He admitted grudgingly, not fully understanding why Sebastien appeared when he did. “Perhaps he divined there was trouble afoot, or he’s keeping an eye on Declan.”

The response appeared to placate Jared.

“That dark trickster is always trailing you.” The vagrant conceded as he straightened. “I’d be careful, though. I haven’t known the magical species to be very particular regarding whom they reap and who stays behind. It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything, since we have one thing in common.”

“Blood,” Amado supplied needlessly before handing his now empty bottle to the vagrant. “You forget we are different, Jared. We vowed to protect humanity from the dregs that tend to attack it.”

Jared nodded. “Declan’s type is certainly making the task more difficult.”

“He’s been a scourge for longer than I care to recall.” Amado agreed resentfully.

“A vampire trailing a vampire is a subject that can be dealt with internally.” Jared supplied diffidently before looking away. “You could have asked for help eradicating him decades ago. Even more so, you can ask now. When a member of The Sanctum hunts a human we’ve befriended, the situation changes.”

“That’s why I called on you.” Amado’s expression hardened as he peered at the starlit sky. “I need information far beyond the threat of a magician.”

“DeClerq’s heard of Declan and the evil surrounding him.” The vagrant shuddered for emphasis, though fear hadn’t coursed through his veins in more than a century. “When I tell you he’s been making it a point to watch her home, I’m not exaggerating.”

Amado felt his fury rise and his hands clenched into fists. It appeared Declan was true to his word, and Meghan’s draw was a life force he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“I can tell you this much,” Jared came closer, his voice dropping an octave as he imparted an additional bit of information. “He isn’t the only one studying your little mortal, though.”

“Not much.” He declared with great reluctance. “He’s not like the others of his kind, eager to talk for a speck of food and a warm blanket. He hangs in the distance, ignoring everyone, and keeps to himself.”

“Have you attempted gathering information from him?” Amado asked expectantly.

“We’ve, the other brothers and I, have tried.” He continued. “He won’t look a single one of us in the eye, though, which makes the work more complicated.”

“It’s in his face.” Jared confessed. “His expression becomes soft, then hard, and he curses. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but there’s a distinct love/hate relationship between the two.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m not just clean-up when you take out the scum torment the innocent. I watch.” He grimaced at the admission. “He made me curious and I followed him.”

“Does he seem crazed?”

“It’s far more than that.” He pointed out. “One minute, the human has a faraway look. In a matter of a second, there’s nothing but anger radiating from him!”

“Do you feel it’s directed toward Meghan?”

“I can’t tell you for certain,” he confessed. He remembered the strange light in the human’s eyes as he stared at the house, and regretted his vow to The Brotherhood, to leave the innocent untouched. “All I can tell you is he mutters how she was meant for him only.”

If Jared’s assumptions were anything for him to go by, Amado had little doubt as to the man’s identity. Apparently, her ex had returned, and she occupied his mind to the extent he’d destroy everything she loved. Even he understood, remembering the words spray-painted across the once pristine walls of her living room, that
MINE
could mean a death sentence.

“Human minds are far stronger than we give them credit.” The vagrant chastised. “Why do you think Vale moved on, Rick stopped making films, Vincent staged his death, and Dom and Genie took to the cabin?”

Amado wearily closed his eyes. He wouldn’t mutter one more
I know
, realizing the words were useless. “Perhaps I’ve grown too comfortable with where I’m at.”

“You have.” The vagrant accused unwillingly. “Remember, familiarity breeds laxness.”

“This is perceptive advice from a vampire that’s been homeless for nearly a century.”

A slow smile creased his face. “My time in this guise is almost done. I’ll be asking Genie for suggestions to a whole new identity in a year or two.”

“You’ll go to Dominic’s wife?’ He couldn’t prevent his snort of amazement.

“She’s a gem, that girl, and has a brilliant imagination.” He chortled with glee, rubbing his hands together and considering the possibilities. “Maybe my next identity will be some rogue that hangs out at the newest dance halls, seducing those waif-like beings seeking the latest male conquest…”

Chapter Seventeen

Meghan was tired of feeling angry, since the emotion didn’t rectify anything, and only made her sick. Being furious wasn’t going to fix her house, replace her belongings, or still the anxious flutters in her stomach.

She raked her hands through her hair, her scalp still damp for the shower, before pressing her cheek to the window of the dance studio. The sun warmed her face from beyond the glass, and she sighed heavily. She had other matters to think over, she reasoned, which added to the pile dumped on her.

Statements had been given to the police, Sebastien helped her contact her insurance company, and her employer understood her dilemma. Inhaling deeply, she placed a hand on the glass, absently tracing little circles against its smoothness.

Remembering the damage wrought on her home, her imagination enhanced by the descriptions handed to her, and she shuddered. Someone, and she’d a gut wrenching idea who, decided her place was ideal for them to unleash their twisted antagonism. Her insides churned as she considered the off-handed possibility her ex-husband had reappeared, his mind and actions fueled by his intent to exact some sort of half-assed revenge on her for moving on in her life.

Why, after all these years, did he decide to return?

Because you moved on
, her mind responded irritatingly.

What was she, besides a woman he’d enjoyed controlling every day of her life?

You’re the one that got away
, the voice taunted.

Had he become so sick and twisted he couldn't move on, or start fresh elsewhere?

Always
, the little voice reasoned.

Why return to Bentham, where the law wanted him?

He thinks he’s beyond the touch of the law
, her brain continued to tease.

Why slash the mattress to her bed, and then leave the butcher knife in the folds of perfectly remade sheets?

Because another had stolen her heart
….

She shivered at the unspoken implication in the action. There were too many questions flitting through her head and the jeering voice annoyed her. Meghan turned and faced the large windows, allowing the soothing warmth of the setting sun to flow over her. Whomever the culprit, she hoped the police managed to find him soon. The very thought he could be watching her, looking forward to a chance to finish what he’d started, was ominous.

Desperate to erase the dread Kevin’s memory evoked, she forced herself to calm, and focused on thoughts of Amado. Immediately, she warmed, remembering the ardent kiss he’d placed on her lips before leaving, silently promising her his heart. A sudden heat encircled her and she smiled secretively, reflecting on his touch and the feel of his body as he pressed himself close to her.

She regretted her impulsiveness this morning, having nearly bit his head off with her insecurity. She needed to explain to him when he returned, letting him know her confusion over the new emotions unraveling in her.

Realizing how she sounded, she scowled. She couldn’t just come right out and say she was falling in love with him, that he was the first man she’d touched in over five years. He’d think she was a love struck fool!

“Good evening?”

Meghan turned, startled by the sudden sound of another voice echoing through the dance studio. Her hand flew to her heart and the organ performed a betraying flip, confusing it with that of Kevin. Laughing uncomfortably, she realized the brusque tones weren’t from her past, and exhaled a relieved breath.

“Good evening,” she repeated and lowered her hand. Meghan tilted her head, mentally seeking the presence of the individual that had entered the studio. She scowled when she couldn’t pinpoint where the man stood, the spacious room making the task impossible. “If you're looking for Mr. Gianni, I'm afraid he's not here.”

“Amado will be here soon, if I know him,” was the husky response. She listened as he neared, and each step he took was precisely executed. “I suspect he’s unable to avoid your enticing presence.”

The voice was worryingly dark and Meghan sensed there was something left unsaid in the simply put comment. She wrapped her arms about her, apprehension creeping up her back and across her shoulders.

“Mister.….”

“Ah, my dear, don’t be alarmed.” The man soothed gently as he halted. She caught the aroma of expensive cologne and leather, the two scents wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. “I’m an old friend of the instructor.”

“I don't know when he'll come back.” She responded with an uncomfortable chuckle. Offhandedly, she realized he neglected to provide his name.

“As I said, he'll return soon.” He continued silkily, each word stroking her frayed nerves. “Do you mind if I wait?”

Meghan didn’t know how to respond, suspecting she couldn't tell the man his presence wasn't welcome and demand he leave. She was Amado's guest, taking advantage of his hospitality, while he straightened things out matters at the police station. As it were, Chesca would be arriving in a few hours to take her to her apartment. All she had to do was bide her time until her friend arrived.

Contrary to her better judgment, she attempted a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t suppose there’s any harm in waiting for him.”

“Would it be against your better nature to supply me with some company, to take the edge off my boredom?” The faceless stranger asked casually.

At the formality of his question, she couldn't avoid the wry twist of her lips. She questioned who the visitor was, explicitly polite as he issued his request. She remembered Amado had told her he gave dancing lessons to senior citizens and mentally formed a misguided picture of one of the patrons.

“It wouldn’t hurt.” She murmured with forced civility, imagining someone the age of her grandfather, impeccably dressed in trousers sporting an exact knife crease, and a suit coat. “Have you known Mr. Gianni for very long?”

“Oh?” She lifted a brow in amazement. Amado had forgotten to mention his own instructor was alive and well, and residing in Bentham. “Did you teach him how to dance?”