The Last True Vampire(87)
A change in tactics was in order. Odds were, if Mikhail was missing, Ronan was already at his house, rallying the troops or whatever. She didn’t know if someone who valued his privacy as much as her vampire did would actually list his number in the phone book, but at this point she could only hope for a little luck to be thrown her way. She left her apartment and crossed the hall to Vanessa’s unit.
“Hey, Claire!” Vanessa greeted her brightly. Her posture was ramrod straight, her shoulders squared and tilted slightly back. “Bet you can’t guess what I’m wearing right now.”
Claire laughed. “I bet I can. And I have to say, it makes you look at least twelve.” Vanessa’s expression lit up, her proud grin more radiant than the sun. “Just remember, it’s okay to be ten. And do ten-year-old things. Don’t let that bra go to your head, young lady.” Claire gave herself a mental pat on the back for her matronly words. Despite her upbringing, maybe there was hope that she’d be an okay mom.
Vanessa giggled. “As if. And Claire, I’m almost eleven. So, what’s up?”
Claire shook herself from the nostalgia of Vanessa’s Clueless moment. “I need to use your phone and a phone book. Do you think your mom would mind?”
Vanessa’s expression deflated like an old balloon. “Mom’s sleeping. I doubt anything would wake her up right now.”
Translation: She’d swallowed a handful of pills and was down for the count. “Oh.” An awkward silence passed and Claire gave Vanessa a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, kiddo. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” It was the sort of reassurance that didn’t require further explanation. Having lived through it herself, Claire knew that Vanessa was the type of girl who’d come out on the other side relatively unscathed.
“The phone’s on the kitchen counter. Phone book, too.” Vanessa didn’t respond to Claire’s reassurance, but she didn’t have to. They had an unspoken bond. Sort of like the one between Claire and Mikhail. A connection fused by something that she didn’t understand. But maybe she wasn’t meant to.#p#分页标题#e#
“Thanks.” She thumbed through the white pages, her finger tracing down the list of A names, Argyle … Arinson … Aristov! Anya, Dimitri, John, Marcus … Mitchell. God damn it. Switching to the yellow pages, she resumed her search, through listings for private security firms, talent agents, lawyers, investment bankers, doctors … anything that struck her as the sort of job that would support Mikhail’s lavish lifestyle. She let out a groan of frustration and ripped one of the pages in half, midturn. It was like looking for a needle in a stack of needles, covered by a haystack engulfed in flames.
God damn it. Despair unlike anything she’d ever felt stabbed at her heart and Claire swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat. She never should have left him, and now she might never see Mikhail again.
CHAPTER
23
Mikhail flew through the dark alleys and empty streets to the address that Siobhan claimed Carrig had followed Claire to. It was a race against his enemies to find her and they’d had the advantage of daylight on their sides. He had to find her.
The connection between them burned bright, radiating from his chest outward like a beacon that called to him from the darkest abyss. He’d never felt it with such clarity and intensity, which meant that either Claire was in trouble or she’d finally quit blocking him. Which both excited and terrified him. He let it lead him, gave himself completely over to the instinct, and in a matter of seconds he was standing before an apartment building that made Siobhan’s abandoned and condemned building look like a palace in comparison.
His mate lived in such poverty?
His worry warred with the indignation that she would leave him to return to this life. No security. No protection. The very building looked like it might fall down around her head at any moment. Sounds reached his ears in a sensory overload that made Mikhail want to clutch at his skull. A party within, music blaring. The voices of too many humans living together in a single space mingled into one. White noise that assaulted him. Chaos to his superhuman senses. A surge of emotion crashed into him, nearly bringing Mikhail to his knees. Claire was inside. She was upset. Scared. He drew the dagger from its sheath and sped through the entrance and up the stairs to the second floor.
Her scent reached his nostrils and it only served to send him into a state of bloodlust that stole his ability to think clearly. There was something different … the bloom of fragrance somehow richer, more intense. His fangs throbbed in his gums as Mikhail stopped dead in front of a door marked 216. Claire was on the other side, and before he could lay his fist to the aged and battered wood it swung open to reveal the one thing he coveted. Longed for. Couldn’t live without.