“Mikhail may have left a pair of sunglasses here. He tends to do that sort of thing when he loses a chess match.”
The priest rummaged through a drawer, returning with a pair of dark glasses, specially crafted for Mikhail. The frames were too large for her face, but Father Hummer fastened them with a band. Slowly Raven opened her eyes. The frames were surprisingly light considering just how dark the lenses were. The relief to her eyes was instantaneous.
“These are great. I don’t recognize the name.”
“One of Mikhail’s friends makes them.”
The garden was beautiful. Raven sank down and buried her hands in the rich, dark soil. Her fingers curled around its richness. Something heavy eased in her heart, allowed a little more air into her laboring lungs. She had an urge to lie down full length in the fertile bed, to close her eyes and absorb the earth into her skin.
It was Father Hummer’s garden that got her through the long hours of the morning. The noonday sun sent her seeking the sanctuary of his cottage. Even with the protection of glasses, Raven’s eyes burned, watered, ached in the power of the sun. Her skin seemed ultrasensitive, burning and reddening fast, although she had never sunburned before.
They retreated together and managed two chess games, one interrupted while Raven concentrated on fighting her private demons. She was grateful for Father Hummer’s presence, uncertain she could have survived her separation from Mikhail. Without him. She drank herbal tea to counteract the terrible weakness in her body from lack of food.
The afternoon hours seemed endless. Raven managed to stave off the yawning emptiness with only a few bouts of weeping. By five o’clock she was exhausted and determined that for her own pride she had to manage the last couple of hours on her own. Mikhail would call for her in two hours, three at the most, if he had spoken the truth. If Raven was to live with herself, recover any of her independence and dignity, she had to face those last hours alone.
Even with the sun so much lower in the sky and clouds beginning to move across the horizon, sunlight still hurt her eyes despite the dark glasses. Without them, she would never have made it through the village streets back to the inn.
Fortunately the inn was relatively quiet. Mrs. Galvenstein and her people were in the midst of preparing dinner and setting up the dining room. None of the other guests were present, so Raven was able to escape unnoticed to her room.
She took a long shower, allowing the hot water to beat on her body, hoping it would drive out her terrible need for Mikhail. She braided her damp, blue-black hair into a long, thick tail and lay down on her bed without a stitch on. The cool air fanned her skin, hot from the shower, traveled over her, soothing her. Raven closed her eyes.
She became aware of the sound of pottery chinking together as the tables were set. Without conscious thought she latched onto that. It seemed a good way to keep misery and grief at bay, to explore this new capability. Raven found that with a little concentration she could turn the volume down low, even off, or she could hear insects beating their wings in the pantry. There was the sound of mice scurrying around in the walls, a few in the attic.
The cook and the maid argued briefly over the maid’s duties. Mrs. Galvenstein hummed off key in the kitchen as she worked. Whispers drew Raven’s attention, the whispers of conspirators.
“There is no way Mikhail Dubrinsky or Raven Whitney are undead,” Margaret Summers was saying hotly. “He may know these people, but he isn’t a vampire.”
“We have to go now.” That was Hans. “We won’t get another chance like this again. We can’t wait for the others. I have no intention of waiting until dark.”
“It’s already too late.” Jacob’s voice was whiny. “Only a couple of hours until the sun goes down. It will take an hour just to get there.”
“Not if we hurry. It’s trapped in the ground,” Hans insisted. “By tomorrow it will be gone.”
“I still think we should wait for Eugene and the others,” Jacob complained. “They have experience.”
“We can’t wait,” Harry Summers decided. “Hans is right. The vampires know we’re after them and are probably moving their coffins every day. We can’t miss this opportunity. Gather the tools quickly.”
“I still think that Dubrinsky guy is one of them. Raven is completely under his spell. Shelly told me they were engaged,” Jacob protested.
“I am certain of it, as was my father before me. I am convinced he was a young man when my father was born,” Hans said grimly.
“I tell you, it is not so.” Margaret was adamant.
“It is strange, the effect he has on women, and the lengths they go to protect him,” Hans said suspiciously, effectively silencing the older woman.
Raven could hear the sounds as the assassins gathered their deadly equipment. Had Hans and Jacob convinced Harry Summers to kill Mikhail? Or another of Mikhail’s people? She rolled off the bed and dragged on clean, faded jeans. As she dressed in thick socks and hiking boots, she sent a call to Mikhail. Again she found a black void.
Muttering a few choice swear words, Raven jerked a soft powder-blue chambray shirt over her head. She didn’t know the local police or where to find them. And who would believe there were vampire hunters anyway? It was ludicrous. Father Hummer? He certainly couldn’t chase around the mountains at his age.
“I’ll put this stuff in the car,” Jacob was saying.
“No! It will be faster on foot. We can cut through the forest. Put it in the knapsacks,” Hans insisted. “Hurry, hurry, we don’t have much time. We must go before they waken and are at full strength.”
Raven looked around the room hastily for a weapon. Nothing. When she helped the FBI with a case, the agents accompanying her carried firearms. She took a deep calming breath, kept tuned to the group as they left the inn.
There were four of them for sure: Margaret, Harry, Jacob, and Hans. She should have suspected Jacob. The night she had attempted to eat dinner with them she had been so sick; she should have realized it was her body’s natural reaction to the demented minds of killers. But she had put it down to an overload of emotion from everything that had happened to her.
Yet Jacob had touched her. He couldn’t have taken part in Noelle’s murder or Raven would have known. Harry and Margaret might have convinced him there were vampires around; they were fanatical, dangerous people. Raven knew Shelly wasn’t involved. She was sitting on her bed, writing her papers for school. There might be a chance to appeal to Jacob, make him realize just how insane a vampire hunt was.
Catching up the dark glasses, Raven slipped out of her room and moved noiselessly down the hall. It was necessary to guard her thoughts and emotions with Margaret Summers close by. Since knowing Mikhail and using telepathic communication with him, Raven was finding it easier and easier to focus her talent.
She waited until the group had disappeared onto the path leading into the forest. Her heart jumped, nearly stopped for a moment, then began to pound. Her mouth went dry. The path led to Mikhail’s home; she was certain it was the same footpath he had used the first time he had taken her to his house. He was helpless, wounded, in a drug-induced sleep.
Raven began to jog, careful not to catch up with the assassins, or get too close. She would defend Mikhail with her life if need be, but she wasn’t overanxious for a confrontation if she could avoid it.
Darker, more ominous clouds floated across the blue sky.
The wind began to pick up, just enough to signal a slow-approaching storm. Leaves blew across the footpath in a steady stream, lighter branches swayed and dipped as she passed.
Raven shivered in the cooler air, fear clutching at her. Mikhail! Hear me!She sent the imperious demand in desperation, praying as she got closer that she might penetrate whatever barriers the drugs had erected.