She climbed into the SUV and backed down the empty parking lot to room 18. It was an end unit, but other than that it was exactly the same as every other one. She thought Daniel might have requested the end, hoping for a little more privacy and quiet, but like everything else in this case, she was just guessing.

Her only suitcase was a small, rolling overnighter, so she grabbed it, then locked up the truck and let herself in. She was immediately swamped by a sense of loss. The room was a mess, with dirty clothes tossed haphazardly into an open suitcase on one of the double beds, and still lying on the floor where Daniel had left them. She knew they were dirty, because his clean clothes were all neatly hung in the closet. This was so typical of her brother that it brought tears to her eyes.

She glanced around, noting that among the dirty clothes were some obvious pieces of hiking gear. The single chair held Dan’s backpack, which appeared deflated and forlorn. His well-worn hiking boots, some really dirty pants and T-shirts, and several pairs of thick socks lay in a pile on the floor next to it. One thing Daniel had always told her was that he never stinted on clean socks when he was hiking. Everything else could be stiff with dirt, but he always took several pairs of socks.

She frowned, then stepped farther into the room and saw his camera equipment neatly stacked between the second bed and the wall, where it wouldn’t be obvious to someone standing in the doorway. Dan’s cameras were worth a small fortune, but even more than that, he’d told her they were irreplaceable. Not because he couldn’t buy another one, but because over time a photographer’s camera became a part of him, as if the physical characteristics of the equipment mutated with use to become unique to the photographer.

She dropped her things on the bed and crouched down next to the pile of equipment. She couldn’t tell if anything was missing. Maybe his agent Penny would have been able to, but she wasn’t here.

Kathryn went to stand and had to grab the wall when the room spun around her. She was beyond tired. She’d slept very little in the last two weeks, too worried about Dan. And then there’d been the flight yesterday—she could never sleep on planes—and the sleepless night in Minneapolis waiting for the morning so she could get here and start looking for him.

She sighed and began stripping off her clothes. The jacket came first, then her badge and her gun, which was the FBI standard issue .40 caliber Glock 23. She set both badge and gun on the table, placed her spare magazine next to the gun, then snapped her holster from her belt and threw it on the other bed on top of her jacket. Stepping out of her shoes, she left them where they were and skimmed off her jeans. She was about to toss them on the bed, then thought better of it and folded them instead. She hadn’t brought that many clothes with her. Knowing she’d be more comfortable wearing her usual work attire later tonight for the interview with Donlon, she pulled her slacks and blouse out of her case and hung them up in the closet, hoping to get rid of any wrinkles. She hated ironing, but didn’t want to present herself to Lucas Donlon looking like she’d slept on a plane, either.

Picking up her jacket and shoes, she shuffled over to the closet, dropped her shoes on the floor and hung up the jacket next to the pants and blouse. She eyed the bed warily, then yanked the bedspread down, piling it on the floor. She never slept on those things. They were crawling with bacteria. She was tired, but her mind was racing, and she knew she’d have to check out the witness interview from Sheriff Sutcliffe before she’d be able to sleep. Her knees sank into the too soft mattress as she dragged her laptop over and inserted the flash drive. She watched it all the way through, intending to go back and make notes on a second viewing. But when she reached across for her notepad and pen, her head spun dizzily. She put her head on the pillow, intending to close her eyes for only a moment. She registered that the sheets were surprisingly fresh and clean when she pulled them up to her chin. And that was it.

Chapter Three

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Lucas opened his eyes and stifled the immediate desire to groan. He was in Minneapolis. Not that this was a bad thing in itself. The Twin Cities were exciting and vibrant, and he maintained a residence here, which he visited several times a year. So, it wasn’t that he minded being in Minneapolis that made him swear with his first waking breath. It was the knowledge that he had to rush back to the ranch in South Dakota, because some damn FBI woman was coming to visit him tonight.

Visit. Huh. Interrogate was probably more like it. Lucas had never met a cop he trusted, and he’d met a lot of cops. He also admitted that this prejudice might have something to do with his misspent youth on the streets of Dublin and London, but that didn’t change the fact of the matter. Especially not when it came to cops and vampires. The people in charge never liked it when someone else was more powerful than they were. There was a level of distrust between vampires and the human authorities that would never go away, and he didn’t see that changing between now and later tonight when the FBI invaded his ranch.

A hot shower dispelled much of his bad mood, as did the memory of their successful hunt last night. He was standing in front of his closet, trying to decide whether to go with a business look for the FBI, or stick with jeans and leather, when his cell phone rang. He reached out and picked it up without looking.

“Yo, Nicholas,” he said.

“My lord,” his lieutenant responded. “I just spoke to Magda. Klemens called your private line.”

“She didn’t pick up,” Lucas confirmed. None of his people were allowed to pick up that line as long as he was alive to do it.

“No, my lord. But when you didn’t answer, he called the business number, and Magda told him you were unavailable. Nothing more.”

“Ah. I’m sure he’ll be—” He was interrupted by the incoming call signal. He pulled the cell phone away from his ear long enough to check the caller ID and then said to Nicholas, “Speak of the devil, and he will surely appear. Klemens is on call waiting. I’ll get back to you.” Lucas switched over to the incoming call with the flick of a finger. Modern technology was a marvelous thing!

“Klemens, old chap, what can I do for you? Or more to the point . . . to you?”

“Cut the crap, you fucking Irish gutter rat. Who the hell do you think you are taking out a house on my fucking territory!”

“Your territory? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I disciplined one of my vampires last night, along with his fellow traitors.”

“Two of those vampires you killed were mine, and you know it.”

“Two of yours? How sad. Well, as my dear old Gran used to say, if you lie down with dogs, boyo, you’ll surely get fleas.”

“Your fucking Gran was a pox-riddled whore on the streets of Dublin.”

Lucas laughed. “Quite right, Klemens. I had no idea you’d met her.”

“I’ve never been to that useless country of yours and never will. It’s full of thieves and drunks.”

“And the thieves are drunk, too!” Lucas agreed cheerfully. “Ah, good times. But I don’t think you called to stroll down memory lane with me. So the house was yours? Things get a little muddled that close to the border. And speaking of borders . . .” he added, as if it had just occurred to him. “Raphael is quite vexed with you, I’m afraid. Apparently you took a shot at him, and in Colorado, no less. Terribly bold, Klemens. Hitting Raphael on his own territory.”

“Stop babbling, you fool. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Ah, but you have heard about it. From whom, I wonder? I’m sure Raphael would dearly love to know.”

“I don’t give a shit what that bastard wants. If someone took a shot at him, more power to them.”

“I’m afraid not,” Lucas commiserated. “The sniper missed rather handily, and, from what I hear, he’s no longer among the living.”

“You want me to believe Raphael shares that kind of information with the likes of you? You can’t be trusted to keep your own secrets, much less anyone else’s.”

“True, but since Raphael is convinced you were behind the hit, we’ve become quite close. The enemy of my enemy, you know.”

Lucas could hear Klemens breathing hard, either trying to control his famous temper, or trolling through his thick brain for something clever to say.

“In any event,” Lucas said, continuing the conversation, such as it was, “if the house was yours, I did you a service by burning it to the ground. It was quite bloody when we finished. And there was dust everywhere.”

“This isn’t the end, Donlon,” Klemens snarled.

Lucas dropped his guise of humor, his voice hard when he said, “No, it’s not. This is just beginning.” He disconnected, not waiting to hear what would no doubt have been some obscenity-laced threat from Klemens. He punched up Nicholas.

“Ten minutes, Nicholas, and we’re out of here.” He threw the phone down and pulled on a pair of worn and comfortable denims. He was in no mood to play nice for the fucking FBI.

Chapter Four

South Dakota

Kathryn swore as she missed her exit on I-90. She took the next off-ramp, doubled back and took the correct exit as her GPS began recalculating for her mistake. Sheriff Sutcliffe had been right. Lucas Donlon had an address, but not much of one. She frowned as the nice GPS lady told her to take the next right turn. She slowed, eyeing the unpaved road that presented itself. There were no lights out here, just her headlights and the full moon, which was barely peeking over the mountains. And there was a lot more snow on the ground, big clumps of it piled against boulders and beneath the trees. The so-called road was two strips of dirt, visible only because they were paler than the rough fields of grass and ice-pocked rock that surrounded them. But it had to be reasonably well traveled, or the two strips wouldn’t be worn away at all. Sutcliffe had also warned her that Donlon didn’t welcome visitors. Maybe leaving this unpaved was his way of discouraging people.

Unfortunately for him, Kathryn wasn’t going to be put off by a little rough road. She switched on her high beams and made the turn. A quarter of a mile later, she was having second thoughts. The other reason she’d chosen to rent a 4-wheel drive SUV was because she’d assumed that, in this part of the country, there would be the occasional dirt road to travel. But even then, she hadn’t counted on driving down dirt trails carved through unlit, half-frozen fields of knee-high grass and unfriendly looking trees. What sane person intentionally left the main road to his residence in such a dangerous condition? Especially since most of the traffic out here was probably after dark? Even a vampire had to leave his ranch eventually, and he’d have to take this road, too. The myth that vampires could fly was just that—a myth.