Maker's Song - In the Blood Part 35

He'd told Jay to hang on, too. Dante's hands clenched into fists. He refused to add Annie's name to the litany of the lost, the long list of all those he'd failed.

"He'll want me," Dante said. "And he can have me. As soon as he gives you Annie, you get the h.e.l.l outta Seattle and head for New Orleans."

"I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself," Heather said, voice tight. "We need to think of something else."

"He wants me to heal his sister. He ain't gonna hurt me."

"I'm not letting Lyons leave with you."

Dante shrugged. "I'll just kill him first chance I get."

"No, you won't."

"Yeah? Why won't I?"

"Because you're going to prepare two syringes with just enough morphine to knock a mortal into slumberland for a few hours. That's why. Whoever gets to him first can give him the shot. Will you be able to get into his mind? Find where Annie is?"

"Yeah, I can do that." White light danced at the edges of Dante's vision and thorn-sharp pain p.r.i.c.kled at his temples, sc.r.a.ped behind his left eye. He willed the pain below. He could only hope it'd stay there. And if it didn't? He s.h.i.+vered, a chill breathing against the back of his neck.

I'll have to use it before it uses me.

"Promise me that both syringes will have a nonfatal dose."

Dante looked at Heather for a long moment, reading the tension in her body, the trust in her eyes. She knew he'd never lie.

He reached into the backseat, grabbed the black bag, and unzipped it. He plucked out a syringe and uncapped it.

"Ain't promising."

In the depths, wasps droned.

He'd do whatever it took to keep Heather and Annie safe. No matter the cost.

34 LIMITLESS DEPTHS.

Seattle, WA March 24

SHERIDAN WATCHED ON THE mini-mon as the Trans Am pulled into Wallace's driveway. The headlights went out. The pa.s.senger door opened and Dante Prejean stepped out of the car. Streetlight s.h.i.+mmered along his leather pants and latex s.h.i.+rt, gleamed blue in his hair.

Prejean strode down the driveway and Sheridan couldn't help but admire his smooth and predatory grace. He also noticed that the vampire's body language whispered of coiled muscles, of agitation. Of hunger.

Prejean glanced up the street in both directions, skimmed a hand through his hair, then turned and paced up the driveway.

Interesting. Waiting for someone, but not happy about it.

Let's see who.

DANTE WALKED AROUND THE car to Heather, gravel crunching beneath his boots. It had started sprinkling again, more of a mist than actual rain, and droplets of water glistened on her black trenchcoat, jeweled her hair.

"If this goes south, and Lyons leaves with you," she said, her voice husky, pained, "I will find you. I won't give up. Do you hear me, Baptiste?"

Dante cupped Heather's rain-cool face. "I hear you, cherie. And ditto." He lowered his face to hers. "For luck." He kissed her and she kissed him back hard, her lips parting beneath his, her hands on his hips.

Inside, the droning wasps washed away beneath a wave of white silence and the pain in Dante's head eased.

The deep rumbling of a powerful engine drew Dante's head up. He released Heather. "Truck coming."

"Which direction?" She reached inside her trench for her gun. "Lyons drives a Dodge Ram."

"East."

Headlight glare stabbed blue-white light into Dante's eyes. Pain pierced his head, ratcheted his headache into high gear.

Squinting, he lifted a hand to s.h.i.+eld his eyes.

The rumble stopped. The headlights winked out. Brilliant pinpoints flecked Dante's vision. He plucked his shades from his s.h.i.+rt front and slid them on.Heather studied the red truck parked against the curb, yellow parking lights glowing. "Is Annie with him?"

Dante saw only one occupant in the truck's shadowed interior-Lyons. Filtering out the steady rhythm of Heather's heart, he listened. The truck contained one heartbeat, a mortal's fast, smooth patter. Dante's hands curled into fists.

"No. She's not with him." Dante refused to voice the other possibility-she was with him, but her heart no longer beat.

"s.h.i.+t," Heather whispered.

The pa.s.senger window slid down with a low hum. A thin coil of cigarette smoke curled out, disappearing in the drizzle. "Put the gun down, Heather," Lyons called.

"Where's Annie?" Dante asked as Heather bent and placed her gun on the gravel at the driveway's edge.

"Somewhere." Amus.e.m.e.nt buoyed Lyons's voice, amus.e.m.e.nt Dante wanted to p.r.i.c.k full of holes.

Heather straightened. "How do we know Annie's all right?" she asked.

"You'll just have to take my word for it. That's the only option available."

No, it ain't.

Closing his eyes, Dante pushed the pain throbbing in his head below, and focused his thoughts. He reached for Lyons's mind. And bounced against a steel-smooth s.h.i.+eld. Dante's eyes flew open. Squiggles of light edged his vision. "f.u.c.k," he whispered.

"You okay?" Heather's hand grasped his arm.

"I was wondering when you'd try that," Lyons said.

"He's a telepath," Dante said. Blood hot trickled from his nose. He wiped at it with the back of his hand. "I can't get past his s.h.i.+elds. Not without a fight."

"s.h.i.+t." Heather released his arm. "How do we get Annie back?" she called. "What do you want?"

"I want Dante to listen to a little something on my iPod," Lyons said.

"I thought you wanted him to heal your sister," Heather said.

"I do," Lyons agreed. "But I also want to see how well he follows instructions."

"f.u.c.k you," Dante said. "Throw me the d.a.m.ned iPod already."

"I'll send it to you," Lyons replied.

As Dante mulled over that comment-Send? As in e-mail? As in f.u.c.king FedEx?-he felt a surge of power, electric and strong, and a small shape floated out of the truck's pa.s.senger window. An iPod sailed up the driveway on a rippling wave of energy.

Dante stared as the iPod stopped in front of him at chest level, hovering in the air on tiny pulsations of energy. He looked at Lyons. Shadows and light crosshatched the mortal's face. Not only a telepath, but telekinetic. That gift was rare even among nightkind from what Dante knew. Natural or more of his dad's tampering?

Dante closed his fingers around the iPod and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the air. The moment he did, Heather's gun floated up from the foot of the drive like a wind-caught leaf. It fluttered over to the truck and in through the open window.

"He's not going to listen to that until we have Annie back!" Heather yelled.

"I really don't want to hurt your sister, so don't force me," Lyons said. "Dante has ten seconds to comply, then I'm driving away."

Truth and mingled lies wove the fabric of Lyons's words. Dante knew he'd hurt Annie with little hesitation.

"Don't listen to the iPod. I think he's trying to trigger you." Heather looked at Dante, her eyes nearly black with emotion.

"There's got to be another-"

"Move away from me, cherie," Dante whispered. "Get outta reach."

Jaw tight, eyes glistening, Heather backed away from him.

Dante worked the earbuds into his ears, then, heart hammering against his ribs, he touched the play arrow. A smooth voice burrowed into his ears.

"S, time to awaken, my Sleeping Beauty. You have work to do."

A familiar voice. One Dante still couldn't name. Pain ripped through his mind, rising up from below and shredding his thoughts, his sense of self. Voices, whispering, screaming, and everything in between, cycloned up from the shattered depths.

Droning wasps winged up in a dark and furious cloud, needling venom into his heart.

Pain shoved him below.

And Dante tumbled into limitless depths.

The unnamed voice continued to speak.

35 LOCKED INSIDE HIS HEAD.

Seattle, WAMarch 24

DANTE DROPPED TO HIS knees on the gravel and doubled over, his hand fisting around the iPod. His rain-damp hair swung forward, hiding his face.

Pulse thundering in her ears, Heather stepped toward him. He hissed, the low sound a warning as primal as a rattlesnake's.

She froze.

"Stay away from him," Lyons called from the truck.

The hiss faded. Dante swayed on his knees. Heather wanted to yank the headphones from his ears, but had a feeling it was too late. And, for all she knew, interrupting the process might do him more harm than good.

A car door thunked, then Heather heard footsteps approaching from the street. Her hands knotted into fists when Lyons stopped beside her in a cloud of cigarette smoke and Drakkar Noir.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, her voice flat.

"When he stands up again, throw him your car keys."

"What?" Heather looked at Lyons. He met her gaze, his own curious.

"I think I know where my father's sending him," Lyons said. "Give Dante the keys and stay out of his way. We'll follow."

"He's doing this for Annie, so tell me where she is."

"After," Alex said, nodding at Dante. "Ah," he breathed.

Dante pulled the earbuds free and dropped the iPod in the gravel. He pushed his hair back from his face with both hands, then rose to his feet. Rain dewed his hair, glistened in beads on his leather pants and on the shoulders of his hoodie, on the lenses of his sungla.s.ses.

He swiveled around, a movement so quick she'd nearly missed it. He watched her from behind his shades, his pale face still and, suddenly, unknown to her. Blood trickled from his nose. Fear hollowed Heather out.

She was looking at S, not Dante.

"Give him the keys," Lyons murmured, touching her arm.

Heather pulled the keys from her purse and tossed them. Dante s.n.a.t.c.hed the jingling keys in midair. Without a word, he walked to the Trans Am, slid inside, and started up the engine. He backed the car out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires, then drove away, exhaust pluming in the chilly, moist air.

Heather watched, eyes burning. Her promises twisted around her heart.

I will find you. I won't give up.