The border crossing approaches and I glance down to see how bad my leg looks. I'm glad it's my left leg, the one closest to the door, because it's dark and in the shadows, it's not possible to detect the torn pants or dark smears of blood. It's very late, too, almost three in the morning, and the bored guard asks the perfunctory questions of place of birth and if I have anything to declare.
I force a smile and say, “San Diego, California, and no, nothing to declare."
When he waves me through, I'm tempted to add, “Except for the fact that I've just spent the night looking for my kidnapped friend in one of Mexico's lesser known tourist spots, where I was shot with an arrow and almost dusted. On top of all that, I'm no closer to finding my friend because the vampire who I thought kidnapped him said he didn't know anything about it, and now he's dead so I'll never know for sure. I'm so tired, I can hardly keep my eyes open. It'll be a miracle if I even make it back to Avery's. And, oh yeah, there's one more thing. I hope to God I never have to come back here. Ever."
But, of course, getting hysterical in front of a Mexican border guard wouldn't be in my best interest, so those declarations I keep to myself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I head for Avery's. I don't know where else to go. I have no home. I can't bear the thought of being at David's without him. Avery was right about where to find Donaldson. Maybe he can help me figure out what to do next.
Tomorrow morning I will go back to David's to see if I've missed something—anything to indicate what might have happened to him. I will bring in the police, too. I can't let any more time go by without asking for help.
My leg throbs. The pain is a good traveling companion, though. It keeps me awake. I realize it's been two full days since I've gotten any real sleep. The night I spent with Avery, we didn't get much rest.
Which brings my thoughts to Max. Seeing him in Beso de la Muerte fills me with questions. Could he know about the existence of vampires? Or is he only aware that his boss uses the place as a hideout for his henchman? It would open up a world of possibilities if Max is accepting of vampires.
But my saner voice knows it unlikely he would be. Especially if the only vampires he has contact with are the ones in that godforsaken place.
And besides, when he learns what I've done with Avery—
I don't want to even think about it.
Instead, I go on autopilot, concentrating on the drive up Soledad Mountain Road. I've made this trip so many times in the last forty-eight hours, I don't even have to think about it. I hope Avery is awake and doesn't mind my crashing at his home tonight. In that big house, he's bound to have a guestroom. I seem to be making this a habit, appearing at his doorstep in the middle of the night.
But I don't even get as far as the front door. Avery appears at the car the minute I pull up. He must have been waiting for me because he's dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, the sleeves rolled past his elbows. His face is full of anxious concern when he sees my leg.
"What happened?” he asks, sweeping me into his arms as if I were a doll.
"Wow,” I say, so surprised by being picked up that way I actually let him carry me. “You must have been worried. This is quite a reaction. You're actually speaking to me—with your voice."
He brings me into the living room and settles me on a couch facing the fireplace.
"How did you know I'd be back tonight?"
He's kneeling at my side, worrying at the cuffs of my jeans until he rips the seam open to expose the wound. He answers without looking up. “You mean because I'm dressed? I didn't. I just got back from the hospital.” His full attention is on the wound, turning my leg this way and that until he seems satisfied about something. Then he sits back on his heels and faces me. “The arrow went clean through."
I feel the hair stir on the back of my neck. I raise myself onto my elbows. “How did you know it was an arrow?"
He gives me another of those slow-student looks. “I've been in this business for two hundred years, give or take. I know what an arrow wound looks like. You shouldn't have pulled it out, you know. It would have been a lot less painful if you'd left it for me to remove."
"Oh,” I sink back into the cushions. “Right. And how do I explain an arrow sticking out of my leg to the border guards? Ran into a little trouble with the natives?"
He ignores my remark and bends his head to my leg. He places his mouth over the torn skin and sucks gently.
"Wow. This is kinky."
He ignores that, too, his tongue tracing the edges of the injury until I feel a tingle that starts deep in my calf muscle and radiates outward. He continues to probe the wound, and the sensation is so pleasurable that I stop fighting it and let my head drop back onto the cushion. He starts singing me a little lullaby in his head—a lullaby of all things—and before I can comment on it, I'm fast asleep.
The next thing I know, I'm being awakened by a gentle touch on my arm. I drag myself from sleep reluctantly, thinking for a minute that I'm in my own home, in my own bed, and that it's Max nudging me awake.
"No, Anna. It's not Max.” Avery is speaking in a soft voice, smoothing my hair back off my forehead. “Sorry."
I open my eyes and give Avery a rueful smile and struggle into a sitting position. I'm still on the couch, an afghan so soft it must be made of cashmere thrown over me. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Thanks for taking me in last night."
He holds out a cup of coffee. When I take it, he asks, How does your leg feel?
I take a sip of the coffee and hand him back the cup so that I can push the afghan out of the way. When I look down at my calf, I can hardly believe my eyes. There's not even a bruise to mark where the arrow had penetrated.
"Too bad you can't do this with mortal patients. It's quite a trick."
He laughs. Well, you had something to do with it, too. You are remarkably strong.
He pauses a moment, letting me readjust myself on the couch before he asks. What happened? I can only assume you didn't find David.
No. I let him pick the memory out of my head, sadness descending again, coloring my thoughts with a despair I don't try to disguise.
Avery reads my feelings, tries to offer what comfort he can. What will you do now?
Go back to David's. Look around some more. See if I've missed anything. If not— I shrug. “I guess I'll have to call the police."
He nods. I'll give you Chief Williams’ s private number. I've told him what we know, but so far, he's learned nothing from his contacts. David seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth.
It's not exactly what I want to hear. I push off the couch. I think I left my bag here yesterday, didn't I?
Avery motions towards the stairs. I took the liberty of putting your things in a bedroom upstairs. I hope you don't mind.
I stand on tiptoe and give him a kiss on the cheek. You've been a good friend.
A good friend? He puts his hands on my shoulders and kisses me back, hard, on the lips. Is that all?
But this isn't the time and my thoughts are too conflicted to give him a proper answer. He reads the signals, lets his hands drop and takes a step back. He does smile, though, and points again to the stairs.
First door to the left—across from my bedroom. By the time you've showered, I'll have breakfast waiting.