“We made it.” Gabriel sighed with relief.

Amaury overheard Carl talking on his cell, instructing Oliver to pick them up.

“Samson obviously has other things on his mind if he can’t even ensure the security of his own people,” Zane chided, clearly needing an outlet for his anger at the situation.

Amaury shot him a warning look, but Carl was faster when it came to an answer.

“Mr. Woodford doesn’t deserve your disrespect, and, not that it’s any of your business, circumstances—”

“Nobody should have ever gotten a chance at placing an explosive charge in the car,” Zane shot back.

Amaury felt Carl’s indignation physically and quickly turned to hide his face from the group as their collective emotions crashed into him. This pain would never change. Even his shrink had practically given up on him.

During his last session a week earlier, Dr. Drake had suggested taking a break. Amaury could still hear his voice. “It’s got nothing to do with psychoanalysis. Your problem is not psychological.”

Amaury had shot up from his chair and jerked his coat from the hanger, toppling the flimsy metal coat stand. “Thanks a lot. After spending a fortune on these sessions, now you have the insight that it’s got nothing to do with my psyche? That’s rich!”

“Listen, Amaury. We’ve explored every possibility. It’s time to concede to the inevitable. You were cursed, and none of my medical skills will help you lift this curse. You need a witch to help you, not a psychiatrist.”

“You forget that witches don’t exactly like us.”

In fact, witches and vampires were sworn enemies. Not many of the modern vampires remembered how this animosity had started, but when it came down to it, the two factions were at war. It was all about witches being good and vampires being bad, which was all a bunch of horsecrap anyway.

“I can’t help you anymore when it comes to my profession. And we both know that alleviating the pain with sex is only a temporary measure. You’ll need to find something permanent.” He’d paused, before he’d suddenly changed his tone. “There’s one thing I can do though.”

Amaury had looked at the doctor as he’d lowered his voice as if he was afraid of being overheard. With two steps Drake had crossed the distance between them.

“There’s a witch who owes me a favor. I’ll talk to her on your behalf and see whether she knows how to release you from your pain. But I can’t promise anything.”

Amaury had shaken the doctor’s hand, grateful there was a glimmer of hope, no matter how faint. Over a week had passed since, and still there was no reply from Drake.

An angry voice pulled him back into the present. “Whoever it was, we’ll get the bastard,” Zane replied, rage rolling off him.

“You okay?” Gabriel asked suddenly.

Amaury jerked his head. “Yeah, sure.” But he wasn’t certain for how long he would be alright. Already the ride in the car had taxed his mind. If he had to spend another half hour with them and feel their agitated emotions invade his head, he’d go crazy.

“What did Oliver say?”

“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. He said he had to MapQuest the address first,” Carl assured him.

Amaury rolled his eyes. MapQuest? What would these young kids do if they didn’t have a computer? They wouldn’t find their way around their own back pockets. When Amaury had grown up, there had barely been any accurate maps of an entire continent, let alone a neighborhood.

Amaury shook his head and glanced at his colleagues. The four vampires from New York sat slumped in the chairs and on the sofa. Carl stood to the side as Amaury continued pacing back and forth. He needed to be alone and rest his mind.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Carl whispered to him.

He nodded.

“It wasn’t a coincidence that you had to park the car outside the garage. It gave somebody the opportunity to mess with it. Somebody planned this.”

Amaury leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. It was pretty evident. Somebody was trying to stop them from getting reinforcements in. Which meant somebody was watching them and knew their every move. They would have to be on their toes every minute of the day and night.

“You wouldn’t have any bottled blood on you, Carl, would you?” Yvette asked.

Carl pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “There isn’t much. It’s just my emergency stash.”

Yvette pushed the bottle back into his hand. “Keep it. I can hold out for a little while longer.”