Page 1 of Silent Stalker
ONE
She bit me.
For the firsttime since rising from a shallow grave, I woke before the sun set. Emerick slept, using my shoulder as a pillow. A shadow moved in the darkness, and I tensed.
The toothpick of a stake I’d carved in the days before challenging my father flared to life, illuminating our bedroom in the golden light of the rising sun. Unlike morning’s burning rays, the glow warmed me and offered soothing comfort.
Emerick’s maker, Clarke, hissed from the corner he skulked in and shielded his eyes.
I dislodged my husband and sat up, careful to keep my bare chest covered. Emerick snorted and jolted awake.
“It’s just Clarke,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the interruption to our sleep. “Hasn’t anyone told you that walking around when the sun is still up is rude, Clarke?”
Emerick’s master chuckled and relaxed. While my stake continued to illuminate the room while offering me its warmth, the old vampire relaxed his stance and lowered his hand from his face. “It’s done.”
The worry I’d carried around with me since meeting my father over a week ago flowed out of me on a relieved sigh. “How did she handle it?”
“She bit me. Repeatedly.”
My mother had bitten Clarke? My eyes widened. “Is she okay?”
“Your enjoyment of vampiric blood must be genetic. Once she gets a hold, she does not like letting go. I must be like candy to her,” Clarke complained, and he showed me his pristine left wrist. He pointed at a spot. After closer examination, I spotted a hint of red in the shape of a crescent, exposing my mother’s bite.
“The situation is worse than we feared,” he announced.
How could the situation get worse? Clarke had waged war against my father to steal my mother out from under his nose while I’d issued a challenge as a distraction. That accusations of involvement hadn’t yet been leveled my way astonished me.
Then again, I had a solid alibi along with the rest of the Lowrance brood. How could we kidnap my mother when we’d been keeping my father close company?
“What’s wrong with my mother?”
“There is nothing wrong with her, but it is probable she is turning into one of us. I suppose if she does not wish to become a vampire, there is a great deal wrong with her. Someone has fed her vampiric blood, likely in her meals. As far as I can tell, the culprit has been disguising it as cow’s blood, like you get with a rare steak. There is also the possibility of the blood having been hidden within sauces. She did not know she is primed to become one of us. Two days after I removed her from her home, she began showing symptoms of withdrawal. On the third night, shortly after sunset, she attacked me. When I took her from her home, she bit me during the struggle, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. She has not developed her fangs yet.”
I lowered my head, muttering curses under my breath and debating how to handle the news. “Are you saying someone has been experimenting on my mother?”
“Yes. She was unaware, but she is addicted to vampire blood now, much like you are addicted to young Emerick. Unlike your mother, you made an educated decision to bind yourself to him. You have been working to strengthen your bond with him as much as he has been working to strengthen his bond with you. Yours is a mutual choice. She had that choice taken from her. I have some of my brood on call to make certain she has access to blood if she needs it, but I fed her well before coming here. She is not emotionally sound at this point, but after she attacked me, she understood I hadn’t lied to her. I need to return to Europe before she needs more blood. I have spoken to her about her choices. She is not a vampire—yet. But she has been exposed enough turning may work even without needing a great deal of blood. She might not even need to face death to begin the turn. This news couldn’t wait. Pepper, you may have been experimented on, too.”
I scowled. In the days following my meeting with my father, Emerick and I had progressed to sleeping however we felt like at the time. In my case, it had involved randomly deciding if I would wear pajamas to bed. I’d also discovered I suffered from touch starvation, and I sought out attention from him at every opportunity.
I hated myself for making idiotic conditions on when we could indulge in our status as a couple.
We’d get there—hopefully sooner than later.
But first, I needed to deal with the problem of Clarke’s implication there was more to me becoming a vampire than we’d believed. “You think there’s more to my survival than drinking so much vampiric blood when I’d been turned?”
“I do, but I can’t know for certain. Your mother has been eating a lot of rare meats, especially cow, to the point it has been barely seared. Her food had been served with various sauces, often on the cooler side, likely the temperature needed for fresh blood to maintain its integrity. She has a ravenous appetite, much like the newly turned. She even mentioned that she has been avoiding dairy. She did not seem to know vampires are lactose intolerant. She just stopped eating it because it made her feel unwell. There are other signs she is transitioning, too.”
“Like attacking you?” I muttered more curses, and not really caring if Emerick gave his maker a show, I stole our blanket, grabbed clothes from the dresser, and headed for the bathroom. “Give me five minutes. I need clothes for this conversation.”
Emerick sighed. “What about my modesty?”
“You have modesty? Pretend you’re a peacock and show off your feathers. I’m the modest one. You’re the peacock. Go be a peacock.”
“He is not the one I want to show off to, Pepper. I have no desire to act like a peacock in front of my maker.”
“You can show off to me later. Put on a suit or something. That counts as showing off like the spoiled peacock you are. If Clarke helps you, it won’t take you long to get appropriately dressed.” I dragged the blanket into the bathroom and closed the door before taking the quickest shower of my life and getting dressed. In my hurry, I’d grabbed a set of silk pajamas without realizing it. Dressed was dressed, and I’d worry about becoming socially acceptable after I found out more about what had happened to my mother—and if my father had been involved.
I did take the time to brush my teeth and tame my hair, buying a few extra minutes trying to figure out what my father was up to—or if someone in my father’s household had decided to attack my family in a rather ruthless fashion.
