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  Michael climbed into the passenger side and I was about to slide in and start the engine when a pale, whispery voice stopped me.

  “Katherine, my child,” it sighed. I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down my back. Slowly, almost against my will, I turned my head towards the sagging side door of the ruined church and saw the red-cloaked figure I’d though I knew so well.

  “Get away from me,” I said, even though he made no move toward me.

  “Come inside, my child. You must be cold,” The Monsignor whispered. I still couldn’t see his face but for the first time I thought I saw his eyes, far back in the folds of the red cowl, glinting at me. I felt an enormous compulsion to do as he commanded, an almost overwhelming need to obey. Slowly, stiffly, I started toward him even though it was the last thing in the world my conscious mind wanted to do. Was it just force of habit that made me come at his call… or was it something else?

  “That’s right, my child,” he coaxed me in that dry, withered voice that was still so full of power. “Come to me and bring your friend. All will be forgiven.”

  “Kate, what are you doing?” Michael’s voice gave me the strength to turn my head. He reached across the seats and grabbed at my hand, pulling me backwards. I looked at him confused.

  “I…I don’t know,” I said.

  “Come to me!” The Monsignor’s voice was stronger—louder and more insistent than I had ever heard it. He was beckoning me with one long fingered hand into the blackened husk of the church where everything was dark and silent and still. His cloak looked like a fresh blood clot in the crumbling black doorway. I felt the pull of his voice like never before, but Michael’s hand on mine gave me the will to resist.

  “No!” I said, with more force than I’d intended. Just the sound of my own voice sounding so confident made me feel better.

  “Come now,” The Monsignor insisted. “Or there will be consequences, my child. Consequences too terrible to consider. Remember who you work for. Remember that I am your master.”

  “I don’t know who you really are,” I said. “But you’re not my master. And you can consider this my official resignation. Sorry I can’t give two weeks notice.” Holding Michael’s large warm hand like a lifeline, I pulled myself back into the car and jabbed the key into the ignition blindly.

  I put the car in drive and peeled out of the alley, leaving The Monsignor and my former life behind, probably forever. I had been driving for almost ten minutes before I realized I was crying.

  Chapter Eight

  “Where are we going?” Michael’s deep voice dragged me up out of my own private misery. I made myself look around at the unfamiliar streets. I had been driving blindly, weaving in and out of cars and running red lights and stop signs as though if I drove fast enough, I could leave the pain behind.

  “I don’t know,” I said, wiping at my eyes with the heel of my hand in quick, jerky motions. “We can’t go back to my place—it’s probably being watched.”

  “We can stay at my place if you want.” He looked at me earnestly, concern clear on his strong features. His fangs had shrunk almost back to normal and if I hadn’t seen them extended and watched him heave a car-sized dumpster over his head, I never would have guessed he was a vamp. Hell, maybe he wasn’t. Maybe I was crazy, after all. But crazy or not, I wasn’t quite ready to die yet.

  “Michael,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, “We can’t stay anywhere. The Monsignor wants…well, he doesn’t want me around any more. And you…well he wants you for some kind of prophesy thing. I don’t know what that’s about but he said something about your blood, so I’m guessing it’s not pleasant.”

  “My blood?” He frowned. “Look, I thought you said that guy was your boss.”

  “He is,” I said. “Was. Oh, shit.” I felt my eyes start leaking again and held back the tears grimly. I hate to cry, it’s so goddamn girly and weak.

  “Hey.” Michael put a hand on my arm, his voice soft and filled with concern.

  “Stop it.” I shook off his hand and kept my eyes on the road. If I gave into his compassion I’d be a basket case in no time. And besides, he was still potentially very dangerous. I didn’t know what was going on or why he wasn’t burned by the sun, but I had seen his fangs and his superhuman strength myself and that was enough to make me cautious.

  “Sorry.” He held up his hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “Look,” he said softly, “At least pull off the side of the road and let me treat your wound. You’re losing a lot of blood there.” He gestured at my shoulder where the blond vamp had ripped into me with his fangs. I had forgotten all about it but now it started a dull, throbbing ache I knew wouldn’t go away until I had disinfected it with holy water and rubbing alcohol.

  We were driving through an industrial area and I pulled off into the parking lot of an abandoned factory, parking the Charger to one side, under some trees. The vast empty lot looked like a desert stretching away to nowhere as I got out and popped the trunk. Inside I found my emergency kit which included first aid supplies, extra stakes, my spare Glock, a passport, and a little bit of money.

  There was also a credit card which was going to be useless since it was tied to The Monsignor. In fact, all my credit cards, hell, my entire life was tied to him. I had trusted him with everything and now I felt like the world’s biggest fool. I pushed the non-productive thought aside and grabbed the first aid supplies. Time enough for negative self talk later. Right now I had to think about how the hell to get us out of town and where to go once we got there.

  I leaned against the side of the car and was about to pour some holy water on the wound when Michael took it away from me.

  “Let me,” he said quietly.

  “I’m used to self treating,” I said, taking it back. “Besides, this is holy water. It doesn’t agree with you—remember?”

  He stood back, an unhappy look on his face while I boiled out the wound, wincing while the blessed liquid did its work. “Will you at least let me look at it?” he said at last, when the fizzing had stopped.

  “No,” I said bluntly.

  “I’m a doctor, you know.” He sounded angry and a little bit hurt. “I stitched you up last night and you didn’t have a problem with it.”

  “That was then, this is now,” I told him. “You may be a doctor but you’re also a vampire—even if you can walk around in broad daylight. Sooner or later you’re going to want blood and I’d prefer it to be later. Okay?”

  “I don’t want blood! Jesus!” He sounded really pissed now. Then he took a deep breath and ran both hands through his hair. When he looked at me again his eyes were calm. “I am pretty thirsty, though. Do you have any water?”

  “Look in the trunk.” I was finished with the holy water and had started on the rubbing alcohol. It burned like a son of a bitch and my suit was completely ruined. Also, now that the Florida sun was up, the vinyl was getting hot. Not like I was going to get a chance to go for a change of clothes though—there was no way I could go back to my house. Not now and probably not ever.

  Michael went around to dig in the trunk while I finished making a crude bandage with some gauze and tape and plastered it onto my shoulder. Luckily it didn’t look deep enough to need stitches so I knew it would close quickly. The Cosenza clan blood that makes me a slayer and gives me immunity to vamp bites also makes me heal cleanly with few scars. It’s a good thing too, or my skin would look like a roadmap of all the kills I have to my credit.

  Michael came back with a liter bottle of Evian. “You’ve got quite a kit back there,” he remarked, then popped the top off the bottle and drank thirstily. I watched the strong cords of his neck move as he swallowed. It didn’t prove anything—vamps can drink clear fluids as well as blood. It’s only solid foods that their bodies reject. He finished the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “So what’s next?” he asked.

  “What’s next is we get out of town.” The pain had cleared my head and I felt stronger now