Retribution

CHAPTER 53

ALL THE TIME I’M GETTING DRESSED, I’M ASKING myself, where would Williams take Sophie? He wants revenge. He wants Burke.

The logical part of my brain says don’t jump to conclusions. Call Rose at the safe house first. Maybe he did take her to meet those vampires.

Rose picks up on the second ring, her cheery greeting a balm to my troubled spirit.

The joy isn’t long-lived. “Williams? Here this morning?” she replies in answer to my question. “Nope. Haven’t seen him since the fire.”

Not the news I was hoping for. Before I ring off, I ask, “How are the girls?”

Her smile is evident in her tone. “They’re doing great, Anna. The collars have all been removed. We saved six. It’s odd, the differences between us. But we keep the curtains closed during the day, let them out at night. I’m not sure long term what will happen, where they’ll go, but for now, they’re welcome here.”

I guess I should feel happy at the news. Six out of twelve —eighteen if you count the six bodies that showed up before the fire—isn’t exactly heartening, but it’s better than having lost them all.

Still, I wonder at how they’re recovering mentally. Being tortured and bled for days has to leave a psychic scar. It’s one thing to heal the body, it’s quite another to heal the mind.

I promise Rose to stop by as soon as I can and disconnect.

Now what? Where is Williams?

I call his cell. It rings six times and goes to voice mail.

Would he have taken her to the park?

Probably not. I remember the fury in his voice and eyes when he pledged to make Sophie and her sister pay. He wouldn ’t want witnesses for what I fear he intends to do.

I move toward the front door, grabbing purse and keys as I go. Perhaps if I go to the park, consult the witches, they can locate Sophie.

The newspaper is on the porch. I trip over it in my haste to get to my car. It flops open as I toe it out of the way.

The headline story on page one answers my question.

Ortiz’ death is still the top story. His funeral is tomorrow. Along with his picture is another.

Why didn’t I think of that before?

The warehouse.

Williams will take Sophie back to the place where Ortiz died.

I SMELL SMOKE AS SOON AS I PULL UP TO THE FRONT of the warehouse. It hangs like an oily curtain over the building. Yellow crime scene tape stretches around the perimeter although there are no security guards or police personnel that I can see.

I listen.

It’s ghostly quiet. There are no cars in the lot in front of the building. If Williams is here, did he go to the back?

I spot Williams’ Navigator, backed up to the loading bay. Twisted metal, shrunk by heat and compressed by pressure, fills the area that was the basement. When I look inside, there isn’t enough space for a person to stand. The second-floor ceiling collapsed, sending filing cabinets and bits of ruined office furniture to fill the void.

Where is he?

I stand back, listening, sniffing the air, probing for his telepathic signature.

It’s not Williams’ marker that I pick up.

It’s Deveraux’s.

He’s sensed that I am here. But he’s not sending words, he’s sending feelings. Desperation. Fear. Pain.

I’m careful not to respond. Williams might intercept.

He’s somewhere in the rear of the basement.

How did they get in?

I crouch down to peer in again. This time I see a pattern to the debris. Something strong pushed girders and beams aside, forging a squat tunnel that snakes back. I have to get on my hands and knees to wiggle through. It’s wide enough, but only three feet high. The rough edges of torn metal soon eat through the fabric of my jacket and T-shirt and scour the skin on my back. No matter. The torment in Deveraux’s cry for help still reverberates in my head.

The smell and feel of my own blood running in rivulets from the cuts awakens the beast. I keep it in check. Williams will recognize the presence of another vampire even before he picks up the scent of my blood.

I concentrate on moving forward, ignore the white-hot pain as my skin is being flayed. Think of something else.

Like how was Williams able to get Sophie to maneuver the narrow passageway? Did she allow herself to be taken? She has an air of resignation about her that sparks irritation in me. Is her guilt about her part in Burke’s plan so great she is willing to give up to him without a fight?

Not so with Deveraux. He took the chance to reach out.

The tunnel ends about twenty feet in. I remain on hands and knees and peek out. Near where the foot of the staircase used to be, where I last saw Ortiz, someone waits. The ruins of the staircase form an alcove tall enough for a person to stand. Williams ’ scent comes to me first, saturated with hate so strong it blocks out everything else.

Then the smell of blood. Sophie’s. Where is she?

Williams’ back is to me. I can’t tell what he’s doing, only that his attention is held by whatever it is. Hate is giving way to pleasure —

potent, sexual. I taste it in the air. He’s excited.

Where is Sophie?

Deveraux has been waiting for me. As soon as he senses that I’m close, he says, Stop him. Now. He’s going to kill her.

I spring from the tunnel and hit Williams low and hard.

He is taken by surprise. He falls back and away. He doesn’t know it’s me until he springs up, whirls around.

I expect to meet the vampire.

Instead, I meet the man.

What I see in his human eyes is more frightening than any beast.