Marguarita caught her arm. The light was so blinding, her sensitive eyes going as red as Lea’s, burning and tearing the moment the sun hit them. Even her skin prickled, as if shrinking away from the light. She stepped back instinctively, drawing Lea with her. Lea made a sound, halfway between a groan and a sobbing scream. Behind her, a man loomed, his face a triumphant sneer, and he slammed his hand hard into Lea’s back, forcing her forward into the house, propelling her into Marguarita. The two women tumbled to the ground, a tangle of arms and legs, Lea pinning Marguarita to the floor.
The stranger leaped through the door. “Hurry, hurry,” he called to Esteban. His face was twisted into a demonic mask, eyes darting around him in a kind of rolling terror even as he leaped over the two women on the floor and whirled around in an effort to see the entire interior at once. Esteban rushed through after him, slamming the door closed and locking it.
A foul odor permeated the air the moment the two men entered. A mixture of heavy garlic, fear and drugs oozed from their pores, nearly gagging Marguarita.
The stranger reached down and caught Lea by her blond hair and yanked. Lea grabbed his wrists in an effort to relieve the pressure on her scalp, struggling to stand, glaring at her brother, anger mixed with fear.
“Get up, bitch,” the stranger snapped.
Marguarita assumed she was the bitch, considering Lea was already on her feet. Calm settled over her. There could be only one reason these men were here. Esteban carried a satchel, and it was heavy. Charlie Diaz, in his drunken state, had betrayed the De La Cruz family, and by the silly necklace of garlic hanging around Esteban’s neck and the foul garlicky odor pouring off of the stranger, they were planning to kill Zacarias. It was up to her to prevent these men from getting to his resting place.
She took her time, feigning pain as she struggled to her feet. There was a panic button a few feet from her, positioned near the door. If she hit that, her men would come running, armed to the teeth, but they couldn’t get in if she didn’t open the door to them. Swallowing hard—and it wasn’t that difficult to look frightened—she stood, swaying a little, one hand going to her scarred throat, the other searching for the wall as if to hold her up.
Zacarias. Can you hear me? We’re in trouble. You have to wake up and hear me.
The panic button was several feet from her, but at least she had her hand on the wall and they were all buying her fear. Now that they were in the house, they were a little less agitated and a little more cocky.
DS threw Lea against the wall beside Marguarita and swaggered over to stand in front of them, so close his garlicky breath blasted their faces in hot, foul puffs as he spoke. He deliberately invaded their space as a terror tactic. Marguarita found, after facing a vampire and Zacarias, DS just didn’t scare her as much as she thought he might. The realization that these men couldn’t hold a candle to the dangerous beings she had dealt with took her fear down another notch, allowing her to keep her breathing even and steady. Her heart stopped pounding and her mind settled into a quiet, logical machine, working on finding a solution and a backup plan to her present predicament.
Zacarias. She tried again, this time allowing that part of her that sent her spirit soaring free to find him. He came into her fast, a melding of their spirits, strength and courage and total reassurance. There was no panic in him, no thought but destroying the danger to her. He had no thought of himself—only her.
Marguarita hugged that knowledge to herself and it bolstered her courage even more. She wasn’t alone trying to control an impossible situation.
I need you to get rid of the safeguards at the doors or windows so Cesaro and the others can come inside. Is that possible?
She tried not to overreact as she shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out her notepad and pen. Hastily, and in what she hoped was a trembling hand, she scribbled her question.
Who are you? What do you want?
“You know,” DS snapped. “You’re hiding him. We know he’s here.”
Lea moistened her swollen lips. “DS thinks Zacarias is a vampire. He plans to kill him.”
Marguarita frowned, her eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement. She scribbled more on the notepad, taking her time, letting Zacarias assess his enemies through her.
He is gone. He left late last night. They never stay long.
DS slapped her hard, so hard the back of her head connected with the wall. The speed was so shocking and the strike so unexpected, Marguarita found herself disoriented for a moment. Beneath her feet, a wave raised the floor. The walls trembled.
“Don’t you lie to me, you bitch. You’re his guardian. I know he’s here and you’ll lead us to his resting place.”
Call to Julio, Zacarias, and allow the men entry. Marguarita did her best to get the entreaty across to him. She was shaken at the savagery of DS’s reaction and his apparent fanaticism.
Esteban giggled, a high-pitched, almost hysterical sound. He didn’t necessarily believe in vampires, that much was apparent to her, but DS provided his drugs and an unusual, adrenaline-filled lifestyle. He craved the power DS had, and needed the association, feeling like he was in the inner circle. Marguarita wasn’t entirely certain the assessment was hers or Zacarias’s.
I am very weak, sívamet. I will strike when I can kill them. I could alert Julio and Cesaro, but they will have to unravel the safeguards and it is very dangerous. If I aid them, I may not have the strength to strike when needed. I am very close to the darkness, more so than most of my kind and the sun takes a toll on me that is not the same as others.
She couldn’t hear any note of anxiety in his voice, just that matter-of-fact way that he spoke of everything, but she was locked to him tightly, feeling his emotions when even he couldn’t, and his anxiety was all for her.
A Carpathian as close to the darkness as Zacarias suffered the leaden weight of the sun much more than others. The sun was at its highest point. DS had chosen his time well. He must have studied—and believed—all the vampire legends. She let her breath out slowly. Zacarias feared he would have only one chance to strike through her. As it was, she was holding the connection between them, not him. He wasn’t wasting his energy when she was capable and that told her just how dire the consequence of the afternoon sun really was for him.
Marguarita made a show of pressing her pen to the paper again, taking her time, letting her hand shake, while her mind raced. There was not going to be the opportunity to stall these men until sunset. They were as aware as her just what position the sun was in. She was going to have to keep them away from Zacarias. Charlie had betrayed him, but evidently they didn’t know Zacarias’s exact location. She could well imagine. Only those serving inside the house knew where the sleeping chambers were located.
I am telling the truth. Señor De La Cruz left late last night to go to one of his other residences. He does not stay in one place long. She knew that would have a ring of truth. Charlie had to have told them that, which was why they hadn’t waited. It was obvious Lea had been brutally beaten and yet she hadn’t given up Marguarita.
Remembering the ring and the words in the ancient tongue engraved in the antique gold, she plunged her left hand into her skirt pocket. She needed to remove the ring, but Zacarias, being who and what he was, had made it the exact size to snugly fit her finger. It would take a few tugs to slip it off.
Can you do that for me?
She felt his hesitation. He didn’t want to waste the energy.