Part 27 (2/2)

”No. This place holds bad memories for me. Avery holds bad memories for me. When this is over, Sandra can have it all.”

I let my eyes sweep the contents of the shelves. ”What does the talisman look like?” I ask. ”The book said it was a belt of fur.

Does that mean literally a belt of fur? Or is it something symbolic?”

Tamara joins me in the search, taking one side of a shelf while I, the other. ”It's both,” she says. ”It's a locket that contains a bit of fur. At one time, it actually was a belt fas.h.i.+oned from the fur of a totem animal. Wearing a belt of fur marked us, made us easy prey for human hunters. Now we wear something a bit more discreet. Like this.”

She pulls a small gold locket from inside the collar of her jersey top and lets the chain drop between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”We always keep it with us. It's our lifeline. Our most prized possession.”

I've finished my side of the shelf, finding nothing that resembles what Tamara described. I wonder if I've made a mistake thinking it would be here. Yet, this is the repository for Avery's treasure. Where else would he hide it?

Tamara finishes, too, and comes around to join me. She's looking toward the far wall, the place where I found David. ”What's over there?” she asks.

From our vantage point, what we see are rugs, rolled up and piled against the wall.

”Should we check it out?” she asks.

I have no intention of reliving the horror. ”Go ahead. I'll keep looking here. Maybe we missed something.”

She moves off and I make another pa.s.s at the shelves. I'm aware that she's now standing on the rug that once held David's body. I think I can still smell his blood, and it sends a tremor of horror through me.

In a moment, she's back beside me. ”Nothing. You don't think it's in one of those crates, do you? Jesus. There are a hundred of them. We don't have time to open them all to check.”

She starts toward the jumble of wooden crates stacked nearly ceiling high. I follow her, letting my eyes scan the pile. ”The dust on these crates is undisturbed. I don't think anyone has been down here-” I start to add since the last time I was. I don't want to have to explain the circ.u.mstances of that visit, though, so I drop it.

Tamara frowns. ”So what do we do now? Finding that locket is the only way to free Sandra and rid ourselves of Avery once and for all.” There's a flash of movement from the doorway. It catches my eye like the glint of sun on a mirror. Sandra appears at the bottom of the stairs as if conjured up by Tamara's words.

Gone is the vague emptiness that blighted her face, the helpless look of a lost child. She looks at me with the calm detachment of a predator. The neckline of her nightgown has been pulled lower, the outline of her body glows as if light were s.h.i.+ning through.

I can't look away. Instantly, my senses spin out of control. She dares me to resist and I know I can't. I'm s.h.i.+vering. She is not close enough to touch me, not physically, and yet I feel her fingers trace a path over my skin, slide down my belly, skim between my thighs. Her fingertips brush against my s.e.x, and I'm shuddering with excitement. She's there, tormenting me with a b.u.t.terfly's touch. I want more. I want her to finish it. A moan escapes my lips, a plea for release.

A laugh, cold, bitter, breaks the spell.

”Ah, Anna.” Her voice. His voice. ”You haven't changed at all, have you?”

CHAPTER 64.

FOR AN INSTANT, THE ROOM TILTS.

Tamara's voice: ”It took you long enough.”

I'm yanked back to the present as if from a dream, disoriented and confused. Then my head clears, and I remember.

Sandra's eyes s.h.i.+ne with a light that isn't her own and she smiles at me with an expression that holds no warmth, no pleasure.

”What's wrong, Anna? What did I do?” she asks. Her lips move, but it is Avery speaking. ”Nothing but respond to your desire. It was the same before. I never forced you to do anything you didn't want to do. You can't dispute it. Your body betrays you.”

At once, warmth surges through me. A familiar spark of pa.s.sion.

”Don't.” I turn anger against the rising heat until arousal dissipates into ash. ”I won't let you manipulate me again.”

”You think you can stop me?”

”Sandra will stop you. We'll find the talisman.”

”You mean that talisman? The one around Tamara's neck?”

I'm given no time to respond. A blur of something comes at me with tremendous speed. I pivot toward it, hands instinctively outstretched to bat it away. It's lupine, huge. My blow catches it at the shoulder and it falls back.

But how? Tamara's clothes are in a heap on the floor. She must have made the change while Avery was toying with me.

The wolf leaps to its feet and comes at me again, but this time I'm ready.

We circle each other, the vampire and the wolf. She is as big as a mastiff, gold in color, black lips curled back in a snarl. Her eyes are yellow with slit pupils that reflect more than animal intelligence. She is aware. Acting not instinctively as a beast, but deliberately. Is she under Avery's control? Until this moment, I wouldn't have thought it. Tamara sought me out to help Sandra.

Didn't she?

In the distance, Sandra begins to croon in a soft, low voice. The wolf pauses, listening.

”Sweet Tamara. I should have chosen you, but you and I will be one soon. We will be rid of this irksome body. Of Sandra.” She steps closer. ”You need only to kill Anna. It's the one thing I ask of you. The one thing Sandra denied me. She could not do it. You are stronger. You have the power. You know what you must do.”

The crooning stops, and the wolf gathers herself to attack. I remember the words of the book.

Silver.

Silver is lethal to wolves.

I remember Frey's warning.

I must a.s.sume a werewolf bite is fatal. My back is against one of the shelves, and my hands grope behind me for something- anything-to use as a weapon. I can't take my eyes off her long enough to search. I can only feel and there is nothing that pa.s.ses under my fingertips to offer protection.

For the first time, I realize that vampire strength and cunning is not going to be enough. I can't fight her because I can't let her get close enough to bite me.

I'm afraid. It twists around my heart and knots my stomach.

It's unfamiliar and disturbing.

Worse, Tamara senses it. She's in no hurry to attack. She creeps toward me, slowly, fangs bared. Does she know she need only to bite me once? Death may not be instantaneous, but it will be certain.

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