“What I am is smart enough to have a plan.”

“So did the wolf in the Three Little Pigs, and you know how that worked out.”

Sophie curled her lips. “What are you, twelve?”

“Just tell me this brilliant plan.”

Reaching into the pocket of her leather duster, Sophie pulled out a small flask and screwed off the lid.

“Culligan was kind enough to donate his blood to our cause.”

Never the sharpest tool in the shed, Duncan scowled in confusion.

“Not that I’m opposed to draining the nasty imp, but what good is his blood?”

Sophie waved the flask beneath his nose. “Such a poignant, fruity scent. Quite unique.”

“Yeah, Calvin Klein should bottle it for his fall collection.”

She chuckled in anticipation. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Just tell me what the hell you’re going to do with it.”

“I’ve at last found a use for you outside my bed.” With a casual motion, Sophie dumped half the blood onto the cur’s silk shirt. “Congratulations, Duncan, you’ve just been promoted to bait.”

Jumping back, Duncan stared at his stained shirt in fury. “What the hell?”

With an efficient motion, Sophie closed the flask and tucked it back into her pocket. She would need the rest of the blood to lure Regan into her trap.

“Circle around the gargoyle and let him catch a scent of Culligan’s blood. Once he’s on your trail, lead him away from here,” she commanded. “Without his ability to sense magic, the vamp and Regan will be powerless to find us.”

“Lead him where?”

“I don’t give a shit, you idiot. Just away from here.”

Duncan’s eyes glittered with fury. “And what are you going to do?”

She turned back toward the bluff. She’d ordered two of her curs to keep watch on the cave from the woods behind the entrance, but she needed to find a closer position to set her trap.

“I’m going to wait for the sun to rise.”

Without warning, Duncan was standing at her side, his head bent to whisper directly in her ear.

“A small warning, Sadie,” he growled softly. “The early cur doesn’t get the worm…she gets eaten by the big bad vampire.”

A spike of unease tightened her stomach before she pushed him away with a violent burst of temper.

“Just go, Duncan. And try not to screw this up.”

Ignoring the warning glow in her eyes, Duncan swaggered across the roof, and with one motion leaped over the low wall. She heard the faint scrape of his landing in the alley behind the building, followed by the fading sound of footsteps.

Waging war against the instinct to shift, Sadie clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. It was a futile effort, of course.

Unlike purebloods, a cur was always at the mercy of their nature. Once they reached a critical point, there was no halting the transformation.

“You owe me, Caine,” she swore on a low growl. “You owe me big.”

With an effort that should earn her sainthood, Regan managed to hold her tongue as Jagr streaked through the darkness. His blinding speed (not to mention the icy shadows he’d wrapped around them) made her eyes water and her lungs struggle to function properly.

It was impossible to believe that anything lacking jet propulsion could be capable of following them, but Jagr clearly wasn’t in the mood to take any chances, and she wasn’t overly anxious to distract him while he charged across the empty fields at sonic speed.

Still, her patience wasn’t endless. As ten minutes became twenty, Regan had had enough.

They were miles from Hannibal.

Hell, they were miles from anything resembling civilization.

“Hey, Sacagawea, I didn’t sign up for the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Where are we going?” she demanded, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

“North.”

Smart ass.

“Yeah, I got that much.” She forced her gaze from the empty fairgrounds they were passing to the austere beauty of his face. Her heart skipped a familiar beat. “Why don’t we just go back to one of the hotels? There’re two of them that not only have our scent all over them, but come complete with a bed and hot shower.”

“A hotel is too easily surrounded.” Jagr slowed his pace, his eyes shimmering like sapphires in the darkness. “And along with the bed and shower come very large windows that are perfect for allowing in the morning sunlight.”

“Seems like a reasonable price to pay,” she muttered, aggravated by the insistent, merciless awareness that refused to leave her in peace.

A ghost of a smile played about his lips. The bastard knew precisely the effect he had on her treacherous body.

“You would miss me if I were reduced to a tiny pile of ash.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you might look good in shades of gray.”

“Harsh, little one,” he chastised. “Your manners leave a great deal to be desired.”

“As if yours are any better?”

“Obviously, we deserve one another.”

Her heart didn’t skip this time. It came to a complete, perfect stop.

We deserve one another…

The words were harmless, nothing more than a casual joke. But there was nothing amusing in the poignant longing that flooded her heart.

“Not freaking likely.” She squirmed in his arms, suddenly more afraid of the sensations jolting through her body than being dropped. “I’m freezing. Put me down.”

Miraculously, Jagr came to a halt and gently lowered her to her feet. Not that she believed for a moment he was actually following orders. She wasn’t that stupid.

A rabid tiger would be more likely to dance the rumba.

Obviously it suited his purpose to stand in an empty field, staring at the large, abandoned building. A building that looked as if it could be some sort of creepy asylum.

A suspicion that became absolute certainty when Jagr tilted back his head as if testing the air.

“Remain close to my side,” he muttered.

Regan rubbed her arms, as much from the brittle tension radiating from Jagr as from the chill still clinging to her skin.

“You think the curs are chasing us?”

His gaze continued to scan the darkness. “There’s always a possibility that we’ve been followed, but I’m more concerned with the vampire who has a lair in the area. I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings by bringing a Were into his territory.”

Regan stiffened in wariness. Another vampire? Just what she needed.

“There’s a clan here?”

“No. Tane has no connection to a clan, although he no doubt has a number of guards with him. He’s a Charon.”

“A Charon.” She shook her head, dredging up the little Greek mythology she’d read. “You mean a ferryman?”

“Not quite.” His expression had settled into those cold, remote lines that always meant trouble. “A vampire assassin.”

Well, this just got better and better.

“Just to clarify, does that mean he’s a vampire who happens to be an assassin, or that he’s an assassin who kills vampires?”

“He hunts vampires.”

“He’s some sort of cannibal, and you intend to invade his territory? Are you nuts?”

“Tane’s not a cannibal. He’s a part of an elite group of warriors that Styx founded long before he became the Anasso, their sole purpose being to destroy those vampires who have become unstable.”

“Unstable?”

“It’s rare, but not unknown.”

Regan shuddered. The thought of a powerful, predatory vampire becoming unhinged wasn’t a pretty one.

Actually it was downright terrifying.

“Should I ask?”

His expression was grim. “No.”

Good enough for her.

“So this Tane hunts them down and kills them?” she instead demanded.

“It’s his duty.”

“Lovely.” With a grimace, her attention shifted toward the nearby building. At a distance it looked as if it had once been a handsome structure. Three stories, with a large verandah on the ground level and a balcony with a decorative railing running along the second floor, it boasted the type of high arched windows popular before air-conditioning, and six fluted columns that added an air of graceful dignity. The darkness, however, couldn’t disguise the fact that the red bricks were crumbling into slow oblivion and the windows were missing most of their panes of glass. “Why does he live out here in the middle of nowhere? Does he give the other vampires the heebie-jeebies?”

“A Charon must always remain above the politics and loyalties of various clans,” Jagr said, his tone distracted as he continued to remain on guard. “The killing of a vampire, even one who is beyond salvation, has started too many wars.”

“So he has to live in isolation?”

“Beyond his servants, yes. It helps avoid complications.”

“Jeez.” Regan grimaced. “What a crappy job.”