Page 69 of Crave

“Knowing too much can be dangerous. Just look at what they did to my mother and your sister,” I said quietly. Hayden frowned, but I could see in her eyes that she knew I was right. “And River knows that better than anyone.” I thought of Sofia’s parting words to all of us before leaving town. Trust no one.

“What are you thinking?” Hayden whispered beside me.

“That we need to think like the undeads do.”

“All bloodlust, all the time?”

“Precisely.” We started down into the valley. “Vampires can’t dematerialize too many times in a row without resting. The older, more powerful ones can make more jumps, but on average you’re talking about two, maybe three trips in a twenty-four-hour period, max. I’m guessing they got dropped in north of here, then reformed past our initial perimeter sensors. They’d have to have an extraction plan—probably one that means staying close to the highway.”

“If they’re too drained, they won’t be able to get back out.”

“Exactly.”

Hayden glanced down at my stomach and hesitated. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but should you be out here? I mean, I know you’re a total badass and all, but—”

“They’ve already tried to kill me once. I won’t hide alone in my apartment clutching a knife, waiting for the moment some fang-head smashes through my window to abduct me and my child and lock us in a cage.”

Because that rumor about the undead needing to be invited inside? Yeah, no. File that one right next to your stash of garlic cloves.

The wind whipped through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of human. Hayden’s eyes flashed wolf-gold. Vampire blood was naturally odorless, one of their best defenses against us. But for seventy-two hours after feeding, they took on the scent of the human or shifter they’d most recently drained.

Raising my Glock, I jerked my chin. “You take point. I’ll cover.”

The snow turned to sleet as we cut through the trees, the wind sending jagged shards of ice slicing into my cheeks. Careful to keep the link with Hayden open through the pack bond to make sure that she didn’t accidentally cross into my line of fire, I scanned the rows of Christmas trees, each shadowy form easily tall enough to conceal a person in the dark. The terrain grew rougher the further we advanced. Deep irrigation furrows had been carved into the black soil with thick hay spread out for mulch. The cold numbed my fingers until I couldn’t stop them from shaking in my gloves. I gritted my teeth. The night was steadily darkening, little moonlight getting through the gathering storm clouds—

A branch snapped behind me.

Ducking behind the nearest tree, I swept the surrounding field. An owl screeched somewhere out in the dark. Blood pounded in my ears, the roar of the wind loud as a freight train.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

I forced my breathing to slow, testing the air, but there was only the scent of wet snow and pine. And yet I couldn’t dismiss the certainty I was being followed by something out there, silent and unseen in the dark. Sighting Hayden crossing over to the next row, I yanked out my phone and quickly texted August with frozen fingers.

Me: Update?

It took me two tries to tap out the message. The wind swirled sleet into my eyes. I shoved my phone back in my pocket. When I looked up, Hayden was gone.

My heart jackknifed. Breath sawing in and out, I began to run. Footsteps darkened the freshly fallen snow. The thick tread of Hayden’s Doc Martens wove a crooked trail through mud, mulch and sleet, approaching a barbed wire fence. Fifty yards past it at the top of a hill stood an old red barn. Its paint was peeling. The wide door hung slightly crooked. Christmas lights were strung along the eaves of the roof. I knew from past trips into town after sunset that they were visible all the way out from the highway during business hours, and probably the only thing holding the aging structure together.

Had Hayden been trying to get there? Seen something moving like I had and gone to investigate?

I was nearly to the fence when I spotted something small and metallic gleaming in the snow. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a tiny silver cylinder, slim enough to fit in the palm of my hand. No, not a cylinder. An aerosol cannister.

Fighting to keep my firing hand steady, I swept the area in a wide circle, stretching out through the pack bond to concentrate on the last place she’d been. Nothing. A gust of wind and sleet lashed through the valley, whipping angrily through the dark silhouettes of hundreds of identical conifers. My vision blurred, my pulse hammering so hard it hurt. Something stirred in the shadows off to my right.

I whirled, gun trained on the movement.

“Hayden?” I shouted over the howl of the wind, inching forward. Was I seeing things in shadows and craggy branches, a twisted tapestry woven from the threads of my deepest fears? I swallowed, tasting bile, the wolf feeling my panic and threatening to snap free from my bones.

No. I still felt… a cold black hole where only seconds before Hayden’s presence had hummed in the pack bond, warm and alive.

She was gone.

Erased.