CHAPTER 52.

THE PARTY IS STILL GOING STRONG WHEN WE step inside. Sophie leaves me to rejoin the group, my last words casting a pall that dims the spark of friendship that had been building between us. I'm sorry about that; I have few friends and I like Sophie. I'm not sorry for being honest, though. I don't just need for Burke to be out of commission, I need for Burke to be dead.

Weariness turns my thoughts to home and bed. I realize when we go back inside that I have no way to get home. Williams left with the car. Culebra arranges for one of his customers to drive Frey and me. She's a human, a host, and luckily for us, keeps up a steady stream of chatter that requires Frey and I to do nothing more than nod and grunt.

Fatigue settles on my shoulders like a coat of chain mail. I can 't believe all that's happened in twenty-four hours. The fire and losing Ortiz. Tracking and losing Jason Shelton. Going after Sophie. The ritual to save Culebra.

I wonder where Williams went when he disappeared. Did he go home? Did he go back to the park to set his witches on Burke? Try another locator spell? If she's as weak as Sophie implies, she may be easier to find.

What happens if he does? First thing tomorrow, I'll call and find out.

Frey gets dropped off first. He grabs the tote bag from the backseat and climbs out, a little more slowly than he climbed in. I realize if I'm feeling this tired, he must be exhausted. Look what he's been through.

I step out with him and touch his cheek in parting.

"Thanks. Again."

He smiles a weary but wolfish grin and places his fingers over mine. "Let's not make this a habit."

"I hope you told Culebra that."

"Believe me, I did."

He punches his access code into the security panel on the gate and steps through. "I'm going to sleep for a week," he calls over his shoulder, lifting a hand in a halfhearted wave as he moves down the walk.

I get back into the car. Our driver, young, enthusiastic, bubbling with curiosity about Frey and me, launches into a dozen questions about what happened tonight in that back room. She says rumors started flying as soon as Culebra made his entrance with the three of us trailing behind. Was it true he had been kidnapped by a witch? That he had been held in an astral plane and that we transported ourselves by way of a supersonic s.p.a.ceship to rescue him? That we were now part of a paranormal superhero squad that will be called upon to break demonic spells all over the world?

Wow.

The truth dulls by comparison.

I let her prattle on, neither confirming nor denying, all the time it takes us to get back to the airport and my car. When she drops me off, she rolls down the window.

"I could be a great help to you," she says, thrusting a card at me. "I'll do anything." She pushes her hair away from her neck. "Anything."

At that moment, another young face flashes in my head: a girl in a seedy apartment being seduced by that a.s.shole Jason. I turn angry eyes on her innocent face. "Go home," I snarl. "Before you get what you're asking for."

I SLEEP FOR TWELVE HOURS. IT'S ALMOST ONE IN THE afternoon when I'm finally able to pry open my eyes long enough to look at the clock. My first thought, how good a cup of coffee is going to taste, is chased out of my head by another.

s.h.i.t.

I sit straight up in bed and throw off the covers. I was supposed to take Sophie to the safe house this morning.

I grab up my cell and phone Culebra.

It's good to hear his brusque "Yes" when he picks up.

He isn't a fan of technology. If he's barking a curt greeting when interrupted by the cell phone, it's a good sign he's back to normal.

"Feeling better, are we?"

"Anna?" His voice softens. "Sorry, I should have checked the ID."

"I take it you're feeling well?"

"Remarkably well. It's amazing how rejuvenating three days in a coma can be."

I flash on Frey. Not so good for the person intercepting all that bad mojo.

Culebra instantly realizes the implication of his last statement. "That didn't come out right. How is Frey?"

"Haven't spoken with him since last night. He planned to sleep for a week. I thought I'd wait at least a day to call him."

"I'll do the same."

There's a pause until my as-yet-decaffeinated brain clicks into gear with the reason I called. "Is Sophie there? I was supposed to take her to the safe house this morning. Obviously I overslept."

"No problem. Williams came by this morning. He took her."

Why does that start alarm bells shrieking in my head? "Williams took her?"

In the background, I can hear someone-sounds like Sandra-calling Culebra's name. He shouts a reply and then says into the phone, "Sorry, Anna. I have to go. Sandra is taking off. I want to say good-bye."

"Wait."

There's a pause.

"I never got the chance to ask. Is it true that Sandra wanted me to stay away from Beso de la Muerte? That she didn't want to see me?"

Another pause, then Culebra says, "I think you should talk to her about it."

"She's leaving."

He draws a breath. "I can say only this-Tamara was more than a friend to Sandra. While Sandra knows Tamara betrayed her, she still finds it hard to see you. You killed her lover."

In the background, a Harley engine roars to life. "I have to go, Anna. We'll talk later."

The phone clicks dead in my ear.

I'm stunned by Culebra's words. It seems to be escaping Sandra that Tamara planned to kill her so that she would be one with Avery.

And she's angry with me? If I ever see Sandra again, I'll point that out.

Love makes people stupid, my own voice reminds me. Gloria and David were a perfect example. Forget it. Concentrate on Sophie.

I jump to my feet and head for the closet.

Why would Williams go back to Beso for Sophie? The question nags at me.

I can come up with only one logical answer. Burke is still alive. Williams' thirst for revenge won't be satisfied until he knows she's dead.

He sees Sophie as the means to that end.

And that makes me afraid for Sophie.

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 bas.e.m.e.nt. When I look inside, there isn't enough s.p.a.ce 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 bas.e.m.e.nt.

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 pa.s.sageway? 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, s.e.xual. I taste it in the air. He's excited.