Runaway Vampire(101)

They started moving again then, but after a couple of steps, Francis said, “I wonder what Lucian is up to?”

“What do you mean?” Dante asked absently as they negotiated the shoppers everywhere.

“Well, he had the two new guys, Derby and Hulkboy follow us into the city in an SUV. They followed us around the Eaton Center while we shopped.”

“Are you sure?” Russell asked, slowing to glance around at his partner.

“Yes. I saw them loitering outside the stores we were in,” Francis assured him and when Russell started to look around, he said, “Oh, they stayed by the store when we left Mary there.”

Dante slowed now, glancing back the way they’d come.

“That explains why Lucian was not worried about Mary,” Russell said quietly. “He has babysitters watching her.”

“Yes, but why?” Dante asked grimly.

When both men remained silent, he started back the way they’d come.

“Dante, wait!” Russell called, hurrying after him, and when he didn’t even slow, added, “At least give me the damned bags so Francis and I can put them in the car.”

Dante did pause then, just long enough to pass over the bags he carried and mutter, “Thanks,” before heading off again at almost a run. It didn’t take him long to reach the store where they’d left Mary. Hurrying inside, he spotted the cashier who had checked them out and didn’t even bother to ask questions, but simply slid into her mind to learn that Mary had already checked out.

Cursing, he whirled and rushed back out of the store, only to come to an abrupt halt in front of it as he realized he had no idea where to look for her.


Mary paused outside the bank, fussed nervously with her hair, and then took a deep breath and entered. It was a large open space with the tellers at a counter along the right side and a row of offices along the left. There was also a receptionist’s counter directly in front of her and Mary approached it and smiled tentatively at the woman waiting there.

“Hello. Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, returning her smile.

“Yes, I was hoping to see one of your loan officers,” Mary said nervously, and then added, “Jane Winslow Mullins.” Her daughter, Janie, had kept her maiden name when she’d married, merely adding her husband’s last name to it.

“Your name?” the receptionist asked.

Mary hesitated. She couldn’t say Mary Winslow. While she wanted to talk to her daughter, she had to be careful about who knew what. Finally, she said, “Alice Bonher.”

She had an Aunt named Alice. Bonher, of course was her maiden name, and the moment she said it, she worried she maybe shouldn’t have.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked as she wrote her name on a slip of paper.

Mary frowned. She hadn’t considered that problem. Biting her lip, she glanced toward the offices along the wall, and then peered back at the woman. After a hesitation during which she considered trying some of the mind control business on the woman, Mary sighed and shook her head. She had no idea how to control minds, so there wasn’t much use. “No. I don’t.”

“I’ll see if she is available,” the woman said politely, and started tapping numbers on her phone as she asked, “It’s about a loan?”

“Yes,” Mary lied and then simply waited, her gaze sliding over the offices again in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her daughter. She was almost hungry for the sight. Her little girl. A kaleidoscope of memories slid through her mind. Janie as a baby, a toddler, taking her first steps. She was a grown woman now, in her thirties, with two daughters and a husband, but she would always be Mary’s baby.

“She has a few minutes.”

Mary swung back to the receptionist at that announcement to see that she’d stood and was gesturing for her to follow as she moved out from behind the reception counter and headed for one of the offices. Mary followed quickly, incredibly nervous at the thought of seeing Jane . . . which was ridiculous. She was her mother.

“Here you are,” The receptionist said, leading her into a small but tidy office. The girl handed the slip of paper to Jane and then left the room.

Mary noted that she’d left the door open and considered closing it, but then left it and turned to peer at her daughter. She was a pretty girl, her dark hair framing a round face with bright green eyes. They looked nothing alike, but that had never mattered to Mary.

Janie smiled at her politely and gestured to one of the two chairs in front of her desk, “Please, sit, Ms. . . .” She paused to glance down at the slip of paper the receptionist had given her and Mary’s smile faded. Janie hadn’t recognized her of course. But then she looked totally different, she reminded herself. Still, she’d hoped . . .