She’d never known what she was. She had vague recollections of her father; he’d been around on and off up until she was about six years old. Then he had disappeared from their lives without trace. Her mother wasn’t the same after that, a shadow of the happy woman she’d been. She’d always sworn that he would never voluntarily leave them, and Roz had presumed he must be dead. He certainly hadn’t been around when the villagers had come for them.
Witch.
The word echoed through the years. Her mother had been a healer. The people had come to her for help and she had saved more than one wretched life. Only to be repaid with her death. Roz had inherited her mother’s healing skills and more, but what might she have inherited from her unknown father?
She sighed and sat back as Maria put a mug of coffee on the table beside her, and carried her own to the sofa.
“Okay,” Roz said, “we require a few ground rules, if you’re going to stay here.”
“I’m good at rules.”
“No habits—I find them depressing. No praying where I can see or hear—it upsets my digestion. Oh, and don’t contact anyone and tell them where you are. And no boys in your room,” she couldn’t resist adding.
She got a faint smile. Maria was recovering. “What am I to wear?” She hitched up the gray sweats. “Your clothes are too big.”
Bitch. Just because she was skinny, no need to rub it in. “Order some stuff off the internet—it will be here by tomorrow.”
“Really?” She pursed her lips. “I have no money.”
“Well luckily, I have plenty.”
“Who are you?”
Well that one was easy to answer. “I have no fucking clue.”
Maria winced at the swear word. “Well whoever you are—you’re a good person.”
No she wasn’t. But maybe she wasn’t all bad either.
She checked occasionally, but there was nothing from the bug through the afternoon and early evening. Ryan called, said they were investigating a few leads and he would let her know if they led to anything. Otherwise, the day had been pleasantly uneventful. She’d set Maria up on the desktop computer, internet shopping, and watched as she flicked through the sites as if starving. Then she’d settled on the sofa with a glass of scotch and a book, but ended up dozing on and off.
It wasn’t until after eleven that there was any further activity from the bug. Roz checked on her houseguest; Maria was curled up in the corner of the sofa, her head resting in one hand, her eyes closed. She still looked pale, with dark shadows under her eyes, but she had held up better than Roz would have believed. Obviously, the nun was made of stern stuff.
Roz shifted on her seat, so Maria wouldn’t see the screen should she awaken, and quickly read the information. It seemed as though Christian and Piers were in the office alone.
Christian: So you’ve found him?
Piers: It wasn’t difficult—I told you—he wanted me to find him. I’ve arranged to meet him at Mason’s, an abandoned warehouse on the docks, tonight.
Christian: You’d still like me along?
Piers: Hell yeah. You can be the voice of reason.
Christian: The two of you have history?
Piers: You could say that.
Christian: Is there anyone you don’t have history with?
Piers: Not many.
Christian: Okay. So about the nun…
Piers: What about her? I told you—she won’t remember a thing.
Christian: You planning on seeing her again?
Piers: Maybe.
Christian: You know, Tara thinks that deep down—admittedly very deep down—you could actually be a nice guy.
Piers: Don’t you two have anything better to do than talk about little old me? And she’s wrong. I’m not nice.
Christian: That’s what I told her. But she reckons all you need is the love of a good woman.
Piers: There is no such thing. Come on, let’s go get some guns.
Christian: Are we going to need them?
Piers: Probably not, but Jack could always manage to piss me off, so let’s be prepared.
Roz sat staring at the screen, but nothing else came up. She reckoned they’d left the room. No doubt, on their way to this meeting with Jack the vampire. Jack the other vampire. Was Christian a blood-sucker as well?
She had to decide what to do. Should she go along?
She read the conversation again while she tried to make up her mind.
So, Piers Lamont was not a nice man. And who was Tara? Was she totally deluded or just misguided?
She’d just decided to set off to the meeting place, but stay out of sight, when her cell phone rang. It was Ryan. They had a solid lead on the missing girl thanks to the picture she’d provided. He was heading over there now.
It took her only seconds to make the decision. Jack would be on his way to meet with Piers and Christian. It was perfect timing—she could help Ryan find the girl and maybe get a chance to search the place. If she got lucky, she might even find the Key. If he still had it in his possession, chances were he wouldn’t take it to any meeting with Piers.
She told Ryan to pick her up on the way through, closed up the laptop, and placed it on the table. Maria was still sleeping, and Roz tiptoed out of the room, pulled on her boots, grabbed her jacket, and left the apartment.
Chapter Six
Piers came to a halt at the entrance to the warehouse. The place was in darkness and as far as he could tell, it was also empty.
Jack was late. Hardly surprising; two thousand years ago, he’d been as unpunctual as hell. Piers couldn’t see how the intervening years locked in a tomb with a pissed-off demoness was likely to have improved his personality.
“You reckon he’ll show?” Christian asked from beside him.
“Hell, yeah. He wants something, and he’s not going to get it without letting me know what the fuck it is. He’s probably just trying to piss me off. He was always good at that.”
“Great,” Christian murmured. “Just what I need.”
Piers grinned. “Hey, I’ve mellowed since then.”
“Since when? Just how do you know this guy?”
He was just about to answer when a sound from above made him raise his head, just as Jack fell from above and landed lightly on his feet in front of them.
Stupid prick must have been hanging from the rafters. He’d always been a show-off. No doubt, that was how the police had picked up on him so quickly. He had no clue how to keep a low profile.
He was dressed all in black—the poser. So were Piers and Christian, but that was beside the point.
“Jack, how nice to see you again after all this time.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. His gaze shifted from Piers to Christian and back again. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“This isn’t a fucking party. Just tell us why we’re here and piss off.”
Jack smiled. “Still bitter, I see. Don’t you think you should have moved on by now?”
Piers opened his mouth to answer, but clamped it closed again. The truth was—he was no longer bitter. He had long ago come to terms with what he was. Hell, he loved what he was. But he hadn’t always felt like this. In the beginning, he’d been mad as hell, and bitter, and probably a little bit twisted. But it suddenly occurred to him that if it wasn’t for the vampire standing in front of him, he would have been dead for the past two thousand years. Maybe he should say thank you. He grinned and felt some of the tension drain from him.
“Jack, how wonderful to see you after all this time. I’d like to say I missed you, but it would be a lie. Now, what can we do for you tonight? Just say what it is you require of us and it shall be done.”
Beside him, Christian snorted.
Jack’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I somehow doubt that.”
So did Piers. “Okay, tell us anyway, so we can kick your ass and get the hell out of this depressing dump.”