“Did he tell you what he was?”

“Not then. Not long after though. I figured he was whacked, but I didn’t much care. By the time I realized he was telling the truth, literal truth, I would’ve done anything for him. The man I was setting to be died on the street that night. He didn’t turn me,” King said quietly. “But he changed me.”

“Why? Did you ever ask him why?”

“Yeah. That’d be for him to tell.”

She nodded. The story itself was enough to think about.

“Break’s about over,” he announced. “We can get an hour’s workout in. Toughen up that skinny ass of yours.”

She grinned. “Or we could work with the bow. Improve that poor aim of yours.”

“Come on, smart-ass.” He frowned, glanced toward the doorway. “You hear something?”

“Like a knocking?” She shrugged, and because she tarried to straighten the books, was several paces behind him out of the room.

Glenna trotted down the steps. What little progress they were making she could leave to Hoyt for the time being. Someone had to see about the evening meal—and since she’d put her name on the list, she was elected. She could toss together a marinade for some chicken, then go back up for another hour.

A good meal would set the tone for a team meeting.

She’d just drop by the library, yank Moira away from the books for a cooking lesson while she was at it. Maybe it was sexist to put the only other woman next on the KP list, but she had to start somewhere.

The knock on the door made her jolt, then pass a nervous hand through her hair.

She nearly called up the stairs for Larkin or King, then shook her head. Talk about sexist. How was she going to fare in serious battle if she couldn’t even open the door herself on a rainy afternoon?

It could be a neighbor, dropping by to pay a courtesy call. Or Cian’s caretaker, stopping by to make sure they had everything they needed.

And a vampire couldn’t enter the house, couldn’t step over the threshold, unless she asked it in.

A highly unlikely event.

Still, she looked out the window first. She saw a young woman of about twenty—a pretty blonde in jeans and a bright red sweater. Her hair was pulled back into a tail that swung out of the back of a red cap. She was holding a map—seemed to be puzzling over it as she chewed on a thumbnail.

Someone’s lost, Glenna thought, and the sooner she got her on her way and away from the house, the better for everyone.

The knock sounded again as she turned from the window.

She opened the door, careful to keep to her side of the threshold.

“Hello? Need some help?”

“Hello. Thank you, yes.” There was relief, and a heavy dose of French in the woman’s voice. “I am, ah, lost. Excusezmoi, my English, is not so good.”

“That’s okay. My French is fairly nonexistent. What can I do for you?”

“Ennis? S’il vous plaît? May you tell me how the road it goes to Ennis?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not from around here myself. I can look at the map.” Glenna watched the woman’s eyes as she held out a hand for it—her fingertips on her side of the door. “I’m Glenna. Je suis Glenna.”

“Ah, oui. Je m’apelle Lora. I am in holiday, a student.”

“That’s nice.”

“The rain.” Lora held out a hand so rain drops splattered it. “I am lost in it, I think.”

“Could happen to anyone. Let’s have a look at your map, Lora. Are you by yourself?”

“Pardon?”

“Alone? Are you alone?”

“Oui. Mes amies—my friends—I have friends in Ennis, but I turn bad. Wrong?”

Oh no, Glenna thought. I really don’t think so. “I’m surprised you could see the house from the main road. We’re so far back.”

“Sorry?”

Glenna smiled brilliantly. “I bet you’d like to come in, have a nice cup of tea while we figure out your route.” She saw the light come into the blonde’s baby blue eyes. “But you can’t, can you? Just can’t step through the door.”

“Je ne comprendrez pas.”

“Bet you do, but in case my Spidey sense is off today, you need to go back to the main road, turn left. Left,” she repeated and started to gesture.

King’s shout behind her had her spinning around. Her hair swung, the tips of it going beyond the doorway. There was an explosion of pain as her hair was viciously yanked, as her body flew out of the house and hit the ground with a bone-wracking thud.

There were two more, and they came out of nowhere. Instinct had Glenna reaching for her cross with one hand, kicking out blindly with her feet. Movement was a blur, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She saw King slicing at one with a knife, holding it off while he shouted at her to get up, to get into the house.

She stumbled to her feet in time to see them surround him, closing in. She heard herself screaming, and thought—hoped—she heard answering shouts from the house. But they would be too late. The vampires were on King like dogs.

“French bitch,” Glenna spat out, and charged the blonde.

Her fist cracked bone, and there was satisfaction in that, and the sudden spurt of blood. Then she was once more hurdling back, and this time when she hit, her vision went gray.

She felt herself being dragged, struggled. It was Moira’s voice buzzing in her ear.

“I have you. I have you. You’re back inside. Lie still.”

“No. King. They’ve got King.”

Moira was already dashing out, dagger drawn. As Glenna pushed herself up, Larkin vaulted over her and through the door.

Glenna gained her knees, then swayed to her feet. Sickness burned its acrid taste at the base of her throat as she once more stumbled to the door.

So fast, she thought dully, how could anything move that fast? As Moira and Larkin gave chase, they bundled the still struggling King into a black van. They were gone before she got out of the house.

Larkin’s body shimmered, shuddered, and became a cougar. The cat flashed after the van and out of sight.

Glenna went to her knees on the wet grass, and retched.

“Get inside.” Hoyt grabbed her arm with his free hand. In his other was a sword. “Inside the house. Glenna, Moira, get inside.”

“It’s too late,” Glenna cried, while tears of horror spilled out of her eyes. “They have King.” She looked up, saw Cian standing behind Hoyt. “They took him. They took King.”