Page 72 of Claiming Her Vampire

“The doctor got the bullet out. He assures me he will recover,” I say, my voice softening.

“What are you doing here?” River asks.

“I wanted to check in,” I say.

“Do you want to help?” River stands from his relaxed position.

“I think you two can handle it.” I cross my arms. “Kerian, do whatever you have to do to get him to talk.”

He nods. “I’ve just barely gotten started.”

“Serenity,” my dad whispers, his head lifting. “Please.”

I ignore him and turn to leave, but River’s voice stops me, “Where are you off to, doll?”

I reluctantly face him. “When we were leaving, I saw who shot Ryker.”

“You're going after them?” Kerian asks alertly.

“Yes.” I gulp. “It was my mother.”

Kerian’s eyes widen. “Damn.”

“I have to say, you have some horrible parents,” River says.

“Yes, I need to find her and make sure she pays for what she did.” I start up the stairs, but River’s hand grabs my arm.

“I’m going with you.”

“No, I can do this by myself,” I protest. I yank my arm.

“Listen, I rather like Ryker. When he wakes up to find you gone, tracking down your crazy mother without backup. . .” He rears back with a shudder. “He’ll kill us all for letting that happen.”

I stare at him for a moment, thinking about the merit of his words. Ryker can be a little worked up about my safety. I would hate to worry him unnecessarily.

“Fine, but don’t try to stop me from killing her.” I glared and poke him in the chest.

He holds up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I just want to watch the badass doll lose it on her mommy,” he smirks.

***

We start on the top of the building where Carol made the shot. I refuse to call her my mom ever again. She has no right to the title.

River sifts through the gravel with his hand. “Nothing here but a bullet casing.” He pushes up from his knees. “Do you have any idea where she would go?”

“Maybe,” I murmured. I close my eyes and concentrate on her scent. I have never paid attention to it before. But it’s time to put my gifts to use. I think back to her coming to the club. At the time, I had too many other things going through my head. I single out the memory of her in front of me.

“Uh, doll?”

“Shhh,” I mutter.

I can smell the bakery down the street. The exhaust fumes of the cars driving by. River has a strong animal scent. He smells like wood and man. I can even smell the dirt deep beneath our feet and the leaves blowing in the breeze. The sounds are distracting. I hear people talking and laughing. A mom is yelling at her kid for throwing a fit and stomping. The birds are chirping, the flapping of their wings loud. I push all of that away.

She has a sour apple smell. That is a phrase I never expected to say about Carol. It faintly lingers in the air, along with the gun's metal and sweat. Thinking of what she did today with a satisfied smile brings back the anger and the determination to find her.

“Do you smell her?” I ask River. He’s been waiting, watching me with concern. “She smells like sour apples.”

He takes a deep breath. “You’re right.”

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