Bloodline

Serena pondered briefly before asking, “Have you found any of the other children who’ve been taken?”

“No. Not yet. But we’re getting closer all the time.”

“Oh.” A wave of disappointment nearly drowned her, but she managed to push it aside. “Then…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now. You can spend a few days with us, learn a little bit more about what we do and why, and then you can decide. If you want to leave, you can. But the truth is, you’re not safe here. And we have to go. Now.”

Serena nodded. “All right.”

She followed Terry to the little blue car. Terry started the engine, thumbed a button to open the garage door and then backed out, looking both ways. As she drove, she checked the rearview mirror almost constantly.

“Go ahead and eat,” Terry said at length. “You need your strength, and besides, it’ll settle your nerves.” She nodded at the Thermos and sandwich she had placed in the console between them. Their drinks were in the cup holders.

Serena twisted open the Thermos and poured some of the steaming-hot chicken soup into the cup. Then she sipped, and it soothed her stomach, eased the tension in her spine and even the ache in her heart a little bit, so she sipped some more. When she finished the first cup, she filled it a second time and downed that, as well.

And with every sip her anxiety eased a bit. She sank into her seat, let her head rest against the back as she swallowed the last of the soup and replaced the cup.

Her eyes felt heavy. She let them fall closed, then opened them abruptly as a wave of gentle relaxation washed through her brain.

Frowning, she looked toward Terry. “Was there…Did you put something in the soup?”

“Yes. Nothing harmful. But we’re going to the Sisterhood’s headquarters, and it’s not permitted for outsiders to know where that is. No matter what. So you’re going to sleep now. You need to anyway, Serena. And when you wake, you’ll be in a beautiful, safe haven, surrounded by women who would give their lives for each other—and who would give their lives to help you find your baby, as well.”

There couldn’t be any such place or any such people, Serena thought. No one could possibly care that much about someone they didn’t even know.

Could they?

She let her heavy lids fall closed and prayed that they could.

5

When Ethan left, I hurried to the front door to watch. Just to be sure he really was going and not playing some trick to catch me in the act. But he kept walking right along the meandering path and on to the stable.

I let the heavy curtain fall and turned, sweeping the living room with my sharper-than-human gaze. He was lying to me. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did. I wasn’t sure what he was lying about—but there was something.

He was familiar to me somehow. Despite my amnesia, I was sure of it. It wasn’t a memory, it was a sense. A feeling.

My senses were sharper than before. He’d told me as much. And there were new ones. I could speak without speaking, sense another’s essence, almost like a scent, without smelling. I could feel the approach of danger. I could tell whether another being was human—or a vampire, like me.

With all that knowledge slowly making itself at home in my mind, how could I doubt this feeling of recognition when it came to him?

Or worse, the feeling of longing that had plagued me from the moment I set eyes on him. The longing to be closer. To touch. To feel those hands on my body, those lips on…

No. I wouldn’t let those thoughts linger. He was lying to me. There was something more to all of this than he was telling me. And if I had to search this entire place, I would find out what it was.

I looked around the living room and whispered, “It’s always best to begin where you are.” I vaguely remembered someone saying that phrase often, and how wise I thought it was.

A woman. A kind woman. A mortal.

I got a flash of short butterscotch hair that curled inward, just below the ear, and blue, twinkling eyes. The life in those eyes had always seemed out of place amid all the dull-eyed others.

What others?

I didn’t know, but in my mind, I saw her lips move and heard her voice saying, “It’s always best to start where you are.”

Callista.

The name floated into my mind as if from nowhere. Her name was Callista, and she wasn’t like the others.

And that was all. Though I fought to grab hold of the memory and wrestle more from it, it was like trying to grab a handful of mist. And yet I was reassured even by that slightest touch of the familiar when all the world was foreign.

It emboldened me.

My memory wasn’t gone forever. It was returning, albeit in pieces. And so I began searching Ethan’s haven, hoping to find some clue to my past, to how I knew him, that might tease my wounded mind into telling me more about who and what I was. But even as I did, a niggling worry crept into my brain, and I found myself moving to the window, parting the curtain and gazing out toward the stable. What if he didn’t come back? What if he had abandoned me?

Just like before.

I frowned at the odd thought that had crept, unbidden, into my mind. And I was more certain than ever that I knew him. We had a history. God, why couldn’t I remember?

21 Years Ago

Serena woke to find herself lying on a fainting couch in a large room that had to be part of a mansion. That was her first impression as she blinked, pressed a hand to her head and sat up slowly. She looked around and saw women standing in small groups of two or three in different parts of the room, all speaking softly, nodding sadly, sipping from china cups and nibbling on pastries. Terry was there.

One of the women noticed her and, meeting her eyes, said, “You’re awake.”

And then, one by one, the others turned their attention to her. Serena noticed that some sets of eyes were damp and remembered Maureen being blown to bits, all because she’d tried to help.

“Hello, Serena,” one of the women said. She set down her teacup and made her way over, taking a seat beside Serena. She was beautiful, probably in her thirties, though she had an ageless look that could be very deceiving. All the women did. There was a wisdom in their eyes that suggested the toned bodies and unlined faces were less than the entire story.

The woman indicated the tea service that sat on a table across the room. China, a pink pattern that looked Asian. Another woman quickly poured a cup of tea.

“My name is Ginger. I’m the leader here. And I’m very sorry about your baby.”

Serena nodded, tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. Kind hands pressed a warm cup into her own, and she took it and sipped. It was hot and sweet and creamy. That other woman had also brought over a plate of pastries.

“Didn’t know if you take cream and sugar, but I figured you could use them after what you’ve been through.”

Serena sipped some more. “Thank you.” And then she looked at Ginger again. “I’m sorry about your…about Maureen.”

“Maureen wouldn’t have a single regret, other than maybe not finding the bomb before it went off. I can promise you that. She lived for this work.”

Serena blinked and looked around the room. “This work…Which is…?” Then she licked her lips. “Do you know who took my baby? Or why?” And then, frowning, she added, “Terry said something about a rare antigen in her blood.”

“Yes,” Ginger said. “I suspect a government agency is behind this. One most people believe ceased to exist several years ago. It was known as the DPI, and it was a highly classified, top-secret subdivision of the CIA.”

Serena felt her eyes widen, and a million questions swirled in her mind. “What does it stand for? DPI?”

“The Division of Paranormal Investigations,” Ginger said.