of the undead?
"I... I heard his voice in my mind. Alexi's voice. Where are you going?"
"To see if I can find him."
"Are you crazy? You can't go out there."
Ramsey sighed. "No need. He's gone."
She couldn't believe he was really gone; the feeling of evil still felt so strong. But Edward had more experience than she did. "You're sure?"
Edward nodded, then resumed his seat. "Any vampire hunters in your family, Miss Richards?"
"Not that I know of."
"Has he tried to speak to you before?"
"No, but I've felt his presence." She crossed her arms, suddenly cold. "It's so creepy. It reminds me of those old science-fiction movies where aliens come to earth and take over people's minds."
"Except Kristov isn't science fiction," Edward muttered.
Grigori arrived a short time later.
"He was here," Edward said. "Just a few minutes ago."
"I know."
"You saw him?"
"Yes. I chased him for several miles, and then I lost him."
Ramsey shook his head. "I've hunted vampires before. I've never had this much trouble tracking one."
Grigori nodded, his attention on Marisa. She seemed distracted. "Are you all right?"
"He spoke to me."
"You saw him?"
"No, no, but I heard him. In my mind."
"What did he say?"
"He wanted me to let him in." She looked up at him, her eyes dark with fear. "It was awful. I feel as if I've been violated somehow."
Grigori didn't say anything, but it seemed as if he backed away from her, over an invisible chasm she couldn't see, couldn't cross.
"It doesn't feel that way when you read my mind," she said softly. "It feels, I don't know, right somehow, when you do it." She looked up at him, silently entreating him to hold her, to shield her weakness with his strength. "I'm afraid."
"I know." He crossed the bridge her words had built between them and took her in his arms. "I won't let him hurt you, Marisa, I swear it."
Ramsey cleared his throat. "I think I'll, uh, go home."
"Good night, Edward," Marisa said. "Thank you for coming over."
"My pleasure." Ramsey looked at Grigori, his eyes filled with reproach. "Call me if you need me."
Grigori nodded, keenly aware that Ramsey's blatant disapproval barely masked the man's jealousy. And yet Ramsey had no reason to be jealous. As much as he, Grigori, might wish it, nothing could come of his growing affection for Marisa. There was no way they could have a life together, no reason to think she would want to spend any more time with him than she had to. He could never be a part of her world; she would not want to share his.
And yet, gazing down at her now, seeing himself reflected in the emerald depths of her eyes, he wished, fleetingly, that he were a mortal man again, capable of giving her a home, a family. But there was no hope of that, and he had no right to think there might be, not now, when Antoinette hovered in the netherworld between life and death.
"It's late," Marisa said, disturbed by his silence, by the tension she felt in the arms that held her. "I think I'd better go to bed, too. I've got to get up early for work tomorrow."
With a nod, Grigori let her go. "Sleep well, Marisa."
He watched her walk away, and though he knew it was only a trick of his mind, it seemed as though she took all the warmth of the world with her.
Chapter Twelve
Ramsey came awake with a start, all his senses suddenly alert. And then he heard it again, a woman's soft cry of pain.
Throwing back the covers, he slid out of bed and went to the door.
"Who's there?" He pressed his ear to the wood. "Who is it?"
"Help me. Please help me."
"I can't, I'm sorry."
"Please! I'm so afraid."
Heart pounding, Edward went to the dresser. Picking up a sharpened stake, he slid it in the waistband of his pajamas; then, one hand clutching his cross, he opened the door.
A young woman crouched in the hallway, her face half-hidden beneath a fall of tangled black hair.
"Please," she said with a gasp, her voice heavily accented. "Please help me." She extended a slender hand toward him, a hand covered with blood.
Cautiously, Edward peered up and down the hallway. Seeing no one, he reached for the girl and pulled her into his room, then closed and locked the door.
The girl huddled on the floor, sobbing, her face hidden by her hair.
"What's happened to you?" Edward asked. "Do you need a doctor?"
She did not answer, only continued to sob as though her heart