Page 54 of Obsessed in Blood
She knelt on the rough stone floor and cried as she rocked back and forth. My first instinct was to go to her, but instead, I glanced at the man who, even with his heavy beard, now seemed familiar. He was staring down at the woman, and a trail of tears sparkled in the dim light.
My gaze flashed back to the woman, and I took another step back. I tried to scream but all I could do was shake.
Lyra.
She was dressed in the same tunic and pants she’d worn during the party. The man shuffled a step toward her then turned his gaze to me. His eyes were pleading, his arms outstretched.
“You’re my only hope. Save me. Save us.”
I sat up and stared into another dark room. This one was Devon’s, and I released a tormented sigh as I jumped from the bed, scrounging for my nightgown and robe in the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.
Devon must have sensed my movements. “What’s wrong?”
“Lyra. I need to get to Lyra.”
He moved with vampiric speed, tossing my robe to me as he pulled on his pants. We raced down the hall to the stairs as he slid his shirt on. We pounded up the steps to the third floor. Her bedroom door was already open.
We burst in to find Colantha soothing Lyra on one of the couches. The expression on Colantha’s face should have stopped me. She was angry and fiercely protective. Frederick and Jamison stood sentinel near the wall—watching and waiting.
“Did she see it, too?” I asked as I dropped to the floor next to Lyra, my hand instinctively rubbing her arm.
Devon stood near, but not close enough to cause Colantha’s vamps to take any action.
Lyra was still rocking as Colantha murmured words I didn’t understand. They were a foreign language, perhaps French or Creole. Or maybe dreamwalkers had their own language I wasn’t aware of.
Lyra calmed and pulled away from Colantha to stare down at me. “You saw. You were there. Hamilton is alive. I’m not crazy, right?”
Devon shot me a look I couldn’t decipher as it was mixed with too many emotions.
I continued to stroke her arm. “Yes. I saw. Hamilton is alive. And Lorenzo has him.”
ChapterNineteen
Devon set logson the fire then stepped back to ensure the new logs picked up the flames. It was mostly a ruse. He needed time for this new information to soak in. Hamilton, Lyra’s boyfriend who had died in the accident with his parents a hundred years ago was still alive. On the surface, that made no sense.
But it did. It made perfect sense.
He’d always had a suspicion that his parents’ death weren’t an accident. A long-lost intuition that had been triggered by Cressa’s accident and the staged fire. They’d wanted him to think she’d died in the fire like his parents. But why? This went way beyond Lorenzo’s need for one-upmanship. Had it been more than just taking his Blood Ward from him?
None of it explained why Lorenzo would have taken Hamilton. And how could he be alive after all this time? Too many damn questions. He turned when the door opened, and Sergi led the rest of the cadre in. Simone had decided to stay another couple of days before returning to Oasis. And Jacques, who had healed enough for light work, trailed behind Bella as usual.
Colantha had moved Lyra to the sofa in front of the hearth, and Cressa sat on her other side with Ginger next to her. Frederick and Jamison took positions at the door, and the cadre took chairs around the fire. Devon glanced at the antique marble clock that rested on the mantel. It had been a gift from their father to their mother and fit Lyra’s whimsical personality. The chime had just signaled four in the morning.
Lyra had wanted immediate action—storm the castle in search of the lost prince. But they only had Cressa’s word—no—that wasn’t right. She only suspected Hamilton was being held on the island, if it was truly him. Cressa had never met him, yet all one had to do was look around this room and anyone would recognize him, even with a full beard. If anyone fit the adage, the eyes are the window to the soul, Hamilton would be the one. From what Cressa said, it was the first thing she’d noticed.
The whir of an espresso machine from the kitchenette would be Lucas making drinks for everyone. At this point, there wouldn’t be any more sleep, and he already had a long day planned for everyone.
“I’d like to wait until Lucas finishes before I start. It’s important for everyone to hear the entire story.” Devon ran a hand through his hair and wished they were in his office so he could pick up his father’s crystal to roll around in his hands. It provided an excellent focal point.
“Let Jamison finish the espressos. I’d prefer we get this done so Lyra can get some rest.” Colantha waved a hand over her head, and Jamison strode toward the panel that hid the small kitchen.
A moment later, Lucas walked out carrying the first of the drinks, which he passed around before finding a seat.
“I’ll give you the short version as I remember it.” Devon glanced at Lyra.
She nodded and looked at the others. “I’ll add anything that might be pertinent.” Her head lowered, and she stared at her hands, her fingers curling in and out of fists.
“It was the summer of 1925, and our father and mother had driven to San Francisco with Lyra and her boyfriend, Hamilton. I believe they went to meet with the curator of the Renaud Library.”
