Chapter Eight
Kadie was as good as her word. In the morning, she made an announcement over the loudspeakers in the hotel and the campground that Morgan Creek was being closed and that all guests, staff, and business associates must be checked out as soon as possible due to the risk of an explosion from a possible underground gas leak.
Refunds would be made at the hotel desk.
Vouchers would be provided for those who wished to return at a later date.
The announcement met with a few instances of panic but for the most part, people were disgruntled but quick to comply.
Saintcrow stood at the window in his office that afternoon watching a caravan of cars, trucks, and campers wend their way across the bridge toward the highway.
By sundown, Morgan Creek was a ghost town again.
An indrawn breath told him half-a-dozen fledging vampires had gathered at the end of the bridge.
He sensed their unrest, smelled their hunger.
Perhaps it was time to invite them inside and turn Morgan Creek back into the vampire haven it had once been.
... He shook the thought away. It was a bad idea and Kadie would never approve.
Filled with restless energy, he materialized on the sidewalk below and walked toward the bridge.
The rapid exodus had left a lot of debris on the streets – receipts, food wrappers, soda cans, a muddy pair of sneakers, a pink hair ribbon, a blue pacifier.
He swore softly. With the hotel staff gone, it would be up to him to clean up the mess.
No doubt the rubble at the campground and in the rental houses would be twice as bad.
Hell, maybe he’d just burn the whole place down. ...
The vampires, who had been pacing restlessly back and forth in front of the bridge all came to an abrupt halt when he appeared. The tension in the air was almost tangible as they stared at him, their eyes all showing a hint of red, a few baring their fangs.
“There’s nothing for you here,” Saintcrow said, his gaze raking each one. “Go back where you came from.”
“Not until we get a taste of your blood,” one burly fledgling declared.
Saintcrow shook his head. “Forget it.”
A low growl rose in their throats. A couple of them charged forward, only to be stopped by the wards on the bridge. They screamed at him, demanding that he let them in, that he give them what they wanted.
Drawing on his power, he spoke to their minds.
As one, they stilled. “You will listen to me and do as I say,” he said, his gaze resting briefly on each one.
“There is nothing for you here. You will transport yourselves back to wherever the hell you came from and never return. You will never think of Morgan Creek again. You will forget this place. You will forget me. Do you understand?”
As one, they nodded.
Saintcrow did a quick search of their minds. Satisfied with the results, he said, “Now get the hell out of here.”
“A remarkable performance,” Kincaid said, materializing beside him.
“Next time I’ll sell tickets.”
“Right. What are you gonna do now?”
Saintcrow shrugged. “I have no idea. I was hoping Izabela or Alara might have come up with something, but I haven’t heard from either one.”
“It’s probably too soon.”
“I suppose.”
“Rosa went up to the house to visit Kadie for a little girl talk. What do you say? Should we go visit the witches and see what’s going on?”
“Might as well,” Saintcrow replied sourly. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
~ * ~
They went to see Izabela first. The witch greeted them as usual, asking if they meant her any harm. It was a question that had, at one time, irritated the hell out of Saintcrow. Now, he just found it amusing.
When she was satisfied with their answers, she opened the screen door, then led the way into her living room. She took her usual place in her rocker. Saintcrow and Kincaid sat at opposite ends of the sofa.
Saintcrow lifted a curious brow when the black cat padded into the room, followed by five black kittens.
Izabela grinned. “They are of an age to leave their mother if you would care to take one home.”
“No way,” Saintcrow said. “The last thing I need in my house is a witch’s cat.”
“Kincaid?”
Jake picked one up, chuckling as the kitten growled at him. “Maybe I’ll take one home to Rosa when this mess with Saintcrow is straightened out.”
“Forget about the damned cat!” Saintcrow snapped. Hands knotted into fists, he took a deep breath before he looked at the witch. “Have you found anything?” he asked. “Anything at all?”
“Yes. And no.” She held up her hand. “Hear me out. I performed a spell with your blood and a woman appeared to me.”
“A woman!” Saintcrow exclaimed. “Who was it?”
“I have no idea. She had long blonde hair and black eyes. And a small, green dragon tattoo here,” Izabela said, lifting her hand to the left side of her neck.
Saintcrow frowned. A dragon tattoo. He let his mind drift backward through time, to the days of the Crusades.
He had met a woman at Court. A strange woman.
The king’s mistress, if he remembered correctly.
Elma? Eloise? No. Elowynne, he thought. She had flirted with him shamelessly but he had never taken her up on what she had so blatantly offered, which was probably why he remembered her.
That and the tattoo. Not that he hadn’t been tempted by her offer, but why risk his neck by bedding the king’s mistress when there were so many others willing and eager to share his bed?
Saintcrow frowned. It had never occurred to him at the time, but now that he thought about it, he realized Elowynne had been a vampire.
And an old one, to be able to be out and about during the heat of the day.
But what did she have to do with what he was going through now? And why had she appeared to Izabela?
“Elowynne.” Saintcrow murmured the name as other memories surfaced. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was a vampire.” He snorted softly. In retrospect, all the things he had thought strange about her now made sense. If she still lived, she would be even older than was he.
“So you do know her?” Izabela asked, a note of excitement in her voice.
“I met her centuries ago. But why would she appear to you?”
“I was seeking the cause of what ails you, of course. Why else?”
Saintcrow shook his head. “I don’t follow you. She can’t have anything to do with it. I wasn’t even a vampire when I met her. If she’s still alive, I doubt if she’d even remember me.”
Izabela frowned. “That is odd.”
“You said she was a vampire at the time,” Kincaid remarked. “Perhaps she knows what’s going on with you, or can send us to someone who does.”
Saintcrow shrugged. “Perhaps.”
A slow smile spread over Izabela’s face. “Better yet, perhaps she has the answer for what ails you.”
“It won’t do us much good if you can’t summon her again,” Saintcrow said, a grin twitching his lips. “Hell, you might have accidentally summoned her ghost from the past.”
~ * ~
The Everglades were the next stop. Alara was waiting for them when they arrived. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, gesturing for them to enter.
“Did you find something?” Saintcrow asked.
“Yesss.” She held up a hand to stay their questions. “I don’t know what is causing the problem, Rylan Saintcrow. I don’t know how to cure it. But the problem is in your blood. It has turned toxic.”
“Toxic?” Saintcrow exclaimed. “That’s impossible!” His blood had healed injuries, cured the sick, restored and prolonged life.
“Nevertheless, it is true. It has a foul taste. I fed it to a rat and the rat died immediately. I believe it is also becoming toxic to you, as well. It is my belief that it will slowly destroy you if the constant turmoil within you doesn’t drive you insane first.”
“Well, hell,” Kincaid muttered.
Under his breath, Saintcrow unleashed a long string of oaths.
He supposed it explained why the fledglings were here.
Although he didn’t understand how, he figured they must sense what was happening to him.
Somehow they knew this might be their only chance to drink from him.
He wondered idly if his blood – now presumably toxic – would strengthen them or destroy them.
He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “If it’s toxic, why didn’t it kill you?”
Alara shrugged. “I am immune to many toxic substances. I suspect the toxicity will grow stronger with the passage of time.”
“Any idea how I might survive this?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Do you think a vampire older than I am might know the answer?”
Alara shrugged. “Anything is possible. Perhaps if you could find one who’s been through it and survived. And they are willing to share their knowledge. It’s always been my understanding that vampires are territorial creatures, not given to sharing prey or territory.”
Saintcrow nodded. “That’s true, in most cases,” he agreed, thinking his relationships with Micah, Ethan, Kincaid, and their women was rare indeed. “Obliged for your information,” he said.
“You are welcome. If I discover anything else, I will let you know.”
With a nod, he turned to follow Kincaid out the door, only to pause when the witch laid her ice-cold hand on his arm. “Remember, Rylan Saintcrow, you still owe me a favor.”
Saintcrow grunted. As if he could forget.
~ * ~
Rosa was just leaving when Saintcrow returned home.
“Any luck with the witches?” she asked.
“Not much.”
“There has to be an answer somewhere,” she said. “We’ll just keep looking until we find it.”
Saintcrow glanced over Rosa’s head to where Kadie waited and then looked back at Rosa. “Kincaid’s waiting for you at home.”
Rosa grinned at him. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I can take a hint.”
To Saintcrow’s surprise, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then vanished from the house.
He glanced at Kadie, who was watching from the sofa. “What the hell was that about?”