Mirren helped Mark to his feet, and once he was sure the man wasn’t going to tumble over, he walked back to the others. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Aidan rose and wiped his blood-covered hands on a shop towel lying nearby. Krys had walked several yards away, where she stood next to a portion of the wall that was still intact.
“Yes.” Aidan picked up a brick and threw it as hard as he could down the hill, then hung his head. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued but under control. Aidan could suck down anger and grief better than any vampire Mirren had known in his long years—himself included. “How’s Mark?”
“Head wound, but he’s lucid.” Mirren looked at where Mark had been sitting in relation to the broken ladder. “I think he was on the ladder and got thrown free of the wall. Probably the only thing that saved him.”
Krys rejoined them, her face white as chalk in the harsh floodlight, her cheeks wet with tears. Her transition to vampire had been so smooth, Mirren tended to forget she’d been turned less than a year. She could still cry.
“I’m going to take Mark to the house instead of the clinic. I want him close tonight in case anything goes wrong. Maybe Max can stay with him during daysleep.” Krys rubbed her hands up and down her arms and looked at Rob. “I hate that the blood gets to me this way. I feel like some kind of monster—it’s obscene.”
Yeah, the blood scent was strong enough to make Mirren lightheaded, and he had about four hundred years’ more vampire experience than Krys. He grabbed a tarp from atop a pile of lumber and spread it over the body. Poor guy deserved at least that much dignity.
Krys’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. I just realized—we have to tell the colonel. And Randa’s going to blame herself for bringing Robbie into this.”
Aidan drew Krys into his arms, but he turned his gaze to Mirren. His light-blue eyes had gone winter white, and Mirren figured his own were an equally frigid shade of gray. Fury tended to have that effect.
“It was somebody’s fault, all right,” Mirren said. “But not Randa’s.”
“What do you mean?” Krys turned to look at Mirren, rubbing her eyes. Behind her, Aidan gave a slight shake of his head.
“Nothing, darlin’. All of this can be laid right at the feet of Matthias Ludlam, may he rot in hell by this time tomorrow.” Mirren dug his keys from the pocket of his black combat pants and held them out to Krys. “Take Max home with you; he doesn’t need to be here right now. Keep him busy. Hell, give them both something that’ll knock them out.”
“What about . . .” Krys took a deep breath. “Do we call an ambulance for Rob?”
“No. We’ll take care of it.” What a bad, bad idea: three vampires, sitting around waiting for human EMTs to show up and take away a body from a town that, by design, barely registered on human maps. Plus, the nearest emergency room was in Opelika, thirty miles away, which meant the Chambers County sheriff would have to get involved.
If Rob had still been alive, Mirren would’ve taken the risk. Calling them now wouldn’t help him, though, and probably would bring more trouble to their doorstep. They already had plenty.
Aidan kissed Krys before she got in Mirren’s Bronco. Max helped Mark into the backseat and then climbed in the passenger seat. He gave them a halfhearted wave as they drove away, and Mirren thought he’d never seen a more brokenhearted man.
Cage joined them, giving wide berth to Rob’s body. “I was looking at the structure from the back side. At least half of the anchors between the brick wall and the frame are missing.”
Not loose. Missing.
“Damn it. See anything else out of place? Don’t guess our visitor left a calling card.” Mirren led the others around to examine the building frame, which remained sturdy and solid. Even illuminated only by the floodlights, the holes in the wood were visible. He scraped a finger across one and turned his finger toward the light. “Mortar dust. Max insists the anchors were there when he and Rob checked the site last night; now, they’re gone.”
Cage squatted and felt around on the concrete foundation. “Wish we had a better light to see whether they’re still here or our saboteur took them.”
“Will this help?”
Mirren turned to see a man walking up the hill toward them, apparently leaving his recent-model white SUV on the shoulder of the road near the turnoff to the construction site. The newcomer was about six feet tall, human, and a stranger. Black shaggy hair, dark eyes, olive complexion, very white teeth, no fangs. Probably one of the new Rangers, but Mirren was making no assumptions.