Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Santiago
Some news should be delivered in person. Especially the kind that will ruin the receiver’s day. Misery loves company, as they say, and I definitely could use a boost.
Patricia slipped through my fingers again. I’m tired of tracking my bitch of a maker while Rafael sits back and watches. It’s time he gets off his spoiled ass and pulls his weight. Last time, he almost missed her visit to the Lair and that would have been an epic shit show.
I rub my eyes before sitting behind the wheel and starting the long drive. While my ex loves his sports cars, fancy suits, and flashy watches, I prefer something more understated… and deadly. Fire-proofed glass and spell-resistant exterior make my heart sing.
Out of habit, I check that my daggers are strapped on right, the little bundle of sage is in my pocket, and a liquid silver capsule is safely tucked inside the copper and gold locket.
I need a proper monster to hunt. Something scaly, terrorizing a random village off the map somewhere. Tracking credit card statements and hacking into security feeds to keep an eye on Patricia is not satisfying in any way.
Especially since I know I can’t kill her.
Why the fuck is Rafael so hell-bent on following her movements now? Four years ago, I got the call out of the blue, and since I was between jobs, I agreed to help. Then that help became a full-time job, and of course I merited not a word of explanation.
Streetlights blur past when I break several traffic laws. I personally checked Patricia’s last known location, but the place was empty. Like a thick-layer-of-dust empty. I have no idea how long ago she wised up on us tracking her movements, but that doesn’t bode well for either of us.
Rafael didn’t even tell me where he’s staying, but the same tricks that kept track of our maker made it pretty clear to me that he’s not in the city. That leaves the mansion.
He’s a country boy at heart, no matter how hard he tries to bury that side of him away. Probably why he can tolerate having wolves as neighbors.
I’ve only been at the mansion once, and I didn’t step a foot inside. He got it after we broke up and didn’t invite me in. I didn’t press the issue then because I was way too pissed off, but my fangs still ache at the memory. That’s going to change now.
Driving through the night and the next day, I stop only to fill the tank and grab a sip from a cute cashier with blond hair and a dimple in his cheek.
It’s getting closer to midnight by the time I turn into the driveway marked “Rosewood Estate.” A warning sign about the private road hangs below it and I wonder why Rafael hasn’t put up a gate until I feel the wards pressing briefly against me.
Now he knows I’m coming. Or someone is, but I bet his wards are precise. Any mage would give their right hand to be able to tap into the Rosewood ley line. Some witches too, although they’d probably wet themselves over the ingredients harvested from the gardens more.
Frowning, I navigate the long drive. It hasn’t been plowed, and the snow is piling on deeper. Can his fancy car even get through this? My car has four-wheel drive, so I’m fine, but still. This is unlike Rafael.
It’s impossible not to notice the power emanating from the grounds. It feels like something is just below the surface, and that makes my hackles rise. I push the feeling aside as I park and look at the dark mansion.
Snow covers the roof. There are no outside lights turned on, letting the moon illuminate the area. It’s just a sliver, but on the pristine snow, it’s more than enough. Then my eyes move to the vampire standing at the top of the stairs.
He looks the same. Suit, tie—and messy hair? Is that a crease on his pants? I get out of the car and he crosses his arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too,” I snark back. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Santiago, I’m in no mood—”
“She knows we’ve been tracking her movements.”
That shuts him up, and he rubs his eyes. “Fuck.” The whisper is so faint I almost miss it.
“Shall we head inside to discuss?” I expect him to argue, but Rafael spins on his heel, leaving the door open behind him. Well, that’s a warmer welcome than I expected.
There’s a scent of something floral lingering in the air once I cross the threshold, and a pile of kindling and a busted door in the corner. I raise a brow, but Rafael doesn’t wait for me as he marches toward the back of the house. We end up in a study and he slumps into the chair behind the desk.
“When was the last time you slept?” I blurt out. Now, in the soft light of the desk lamp, I can see the telltale signs. Ashy skin, dim eyes, the faintest tick on his left eye.
“Slept?” He chuckles. “Eleven months and five days.”
“Not possible. You’d be catatonic.”
“Oh, I’ve dozed. Just enough to stay functional, but slept…” He trails off and looks over his shoulder and out the window. “It’s still snowing,” he mutters, like the snow is personally offending him.
“What’s this all about, Rafael?”
That snaps him out of it, and he turns to face me with a closed-off expression. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I snarl. “You’ve been sending me off to chase after Patricia for four years. At least I deserve to know why.”
“You don’t want to know where she is? Don’t tell me you don’t have a plan of action to avoid her at all costs yourself,” he replies with the haughty tone that drives me crazy.
I’d love nothing more than to get into a fight with him, but we have an actual problem to deal with. Punching his face can wait.
“I’m just going to grab the stuff from the car,” I say over my shoulder as I head out of the room. “I assume this place has a guest room or two.” I blur to my car before he has time to reply.
This is going to be fun.
Except seeing him so rattled doesn’t bring the satisfaction I thought it would. Fuck him for setting off my protective instincts again. We are not going down that road. Ever. Again.