Vanished

He heard children arguing, couples discussing a cathedral they’d toured that afternoon. The farmer who owned this land was laughing with his wife over something their eldest child had done, and a teenager was planning to slip out of his room and meet some friends.

And nowhere in that rush of thoughts was Alison Blair.

“Where in bloody hell is she?” Rogan muttered darkly, honing his concentration, searching all of those inside the house, looking for the American woman. With the link he had into the local system, he’d also combed through the guest registries all over the area until he’d found where she and her sister were staying while they were in Ireland.

He’d thought to talk to her again, to find out if that blasted seer had had anything more useful to say than the vague admonition she’d passed along. Damn the woman for not being where she should be.

Scowling off into the distance, he reached out with his senses, searching for some sign of her in the vicinity, but there was nothing. And irritation spiked inside him as he reached further, stretching his telepathic abilities out into the night even while he cursed her. She’d come all this way to give him the bloody message. Now that he actually wanted to speak with her, she was gone?

Aly walked up and down the sidewalk in front of the Sidhe pub, her gaze flicking constantly from side to side. Outside the square of light from the pub, the city streets were dark. Shops were closed and the few pedestrians on the sidewalks were scurrying, heads down, in the face of a sudden rain shower. Alison, though, tugged the hood of her jacket up and over her head and stood her ground. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly, but she knew she had to be here—where Casey had last been seen.

She strained to pick up any psychic signs of her sister, but there was nothing. All their lives, she and Casey had been able to link telepathically. Not that Aly was able to do this with anyone else, but she and her sister had always had such a close bond that they’d at least been able to touch each other’s minds. But tonight there was nothing.

She’d almost gone to Rogan Butler to ask for help, but that impulse had disappeared fast. After all, he’d made it more than clear he hadn’t wanted her around. And truth to tell, she was in no hurry to be that close to him again anyway. He was too much. Too handsome. Too powerful. Too overwhelming. And far too arrogant.

He hadn’t wanted to listen to her about business. There was no way he’d care about her missing sister. She probably wouldn’t even be allowed past his security guards again, so there was no point in trying to get in to see him anyway.

But that fact changed nothing. With or without help, she would find her sister. It had been just she and Casey for years. They were their only family, and they took care of each other. Wherever Casey was, she was counting on Aly to find her. So she would—even if she had to stand outside this pub and talk to everyone in Westport for the rest of her life. As a middle-aged couple darted past, headed for the pub, Aly hurried forward and intercepted them.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Why, you’re American, aren’t you?” The woman smiled a greeting as if she were expected to personally welcome all visitors to the city. “That’s lovely.”

“Thank you.” Another woman hurried past them, and Aly dipped her head to avoid getting impaled by the points on her umbrella. Holding out a picture of her sister, Aly looked from the woman to her husband and back again. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my sister’s missing and she was here last night. I’m trying to find her and—”

“Nice-looking girl,” the man said, handing the picture back. “Haven’t seen her, though.”

“Sorry, love, I’ve not seen her either,” the woman said, shaking her head solemnly. “Are you sure she’s missing and not just off with a friend?”

“No,” Aly said with a sigh of disappointment. It had been like this for two hours. Everyone she showed Casey’s picture to had been kind and concerned but hadn’t been able to help. Misery rose up inside her and did battle with fear. Fear was winning. “We only just arrived in Ireland yesterday, so she wouldn’t have friends here to go off with.”

“Come on, Bridget,” the man said to his wife, yanking open the pub door to allow music, smoke and the scent of beer to escape.

His wife shooed him off, then waited for the door to close again before asking, “Have you spoken to the Garda?”

“Yes. They couldn’t help me either.”

She sighed in sympathy. “Terrible shame that is, love. So many young people going missing all of a sudden, you’d think the Garda could do something about it.”

Aly swallowed hard, looked into the woman’s eyes and fought down a growing sense of dread. “There’ve been a lot of missing people here lately?”

“Oh, yes. Mostly tourists, and Sean—that’s my husband—he thinks nothin’ of it. Says young people thrive on causing trouble.”

“What do you think?” Aly asked, watching the elder woman shift her gaze around the well-lit square as if looking for something.

“I think,” she said finally, softly, as if half afraid someone would hear her speak her own fears, “sometimes things happen that can’t be explained.” She shivered a little, shoved her hands into her coat pockets and offered a sad smile. “And I do hope you find your sister, love.”

“Thank you.” Aly whispered the words, staring down at the picture of Casey. But the woman had already slipped into the pub, leaving Aly alone on the sidewalk again.

Things that can’t be explained…

That cold sense of dread coiled and tightened in the pit of Aly’s belly, and she wished she could ease it. But how could she? She was in a position to know that what the woman had said was all too true. There were monsters out there, moving through the darkness, looking for prey. Demons from other dimensions, crowding into this world, taking what they could and destroying what they couldn’t have.

Demons.

Lifting her head, Aly stared off into the shadows that bordered the river running alongside the town. From her post outside the pub, the rush of the water was more like a long undulating sigh, and she couldn’t help feeling that it sounded lonely. Empty.

And she wondered about Casey. If she was safe. If she was afraid.

If she was alive.

Panic jolted through her, and it felt as though a tight fist had closed around her throat. Alive. Casey had to be alive. Of course she was. There was no reason to start the crazed imaginings of death and disaster. It was only that…“Oh, God. I never should have brought her here. Never should have let her go off alone. If anything’s happened to her…”

She stopped, refusing to even finish that sentence. Her heart felt heavy, and her stomach was a churning mass of anxiety and sheer terror. She’d never felt more alone, more out of her element. Here on this tidy street corner, as everyone else in this lovely city went about their business, Aly was forced to admit the very real possibility that a demon might have her sister.

And if that were true…she’d need Rogan Butler to get Casey back.

Rogan shook his head, as if that motion alone could ease the frantic thoughts he was picking up from Alison Blair. He’d trained his telepathic abilities on her, homing in on the raging confusion in her mind, and followed her here to Westport. Now, he’d need only to locate her in the large seaport city.

He knew the town well. He’d watched it grow from its beginnings in the eighteenth century into a teeming city filled with, as far as he was concerned, too many mortals. But tonight he was interested in only one of the people wandering up and down these broad, familiar streets.

“Bloody woman.” He bit the words off on an oath. “If she’d stop letting her mind whirl in circles, she’d be easier to find.”

There were no trace energy signals for him to follow. No sign of a demon as yet. There were only Alison’s thoughts, a wild mix of pain and panic and sheer terror guiding him to her like the flash of a lighthouse across a churning sea. He felt an answering sense of urgency rise inside him and tried to tamp it down. She was nothing more to him than a clue to whatever was happening in his little corner of Ireland. And to defend those he was sworn to protect, he would use whatever information she could give him.

Beyond that, there was nothing.

Rogan used his Guardian abilities to obfuscate himself as he walked quickly down the wide riverfront street in Westport. He didn’t have to be invisible, of course. But he’d found that a man of his size didn’t pass through crowds unnoticed, and he’d rather keep his presence in the city quiet.

The river roared to his left, and from a corner pub music and laughter rose up in waves that filled the air. To his right, a drunk stumbled along the sidewalk, muttering to himself.

Rogan dismissed the man and continued on. His steps were long, measured, and the quiet that flowed with him streamed out around him in a wash of power. He was comfortable in the night, in the shadows where demons thrived and mortals feared to step. The adrenaline of the hunt pumped through his veins as he heard Alison’s mind jumping from one thought to the next.

Alive. Casey’s alive. I know it. But where? A demon? No. Rogan should be here. He’s a Guardian. Maybe I should call the Society office in Dublin. And tell them what?

He stopped then, lifting his face to the wind, closing his eyes and focusing solely on Alison.

Where can I look? Where should I go next? I should find Rogan. No, he won’t help. Casey needs me. What can I do? Oh, God, help me find her.

Her mind raged, calling to him, as if she were sensing his presence and guiding him to her. He felt her fear lying over her thoughts like a shroud, and he moved more quickly, hastening his steps as if in answer to her desperate call.

He homed in on her and loped across the wide street to round a corner. There, in the gold light spilling from the Sidhe pub, she stood. And swathed in a cloak of invisibility, he could watch her unseen. Study her features, drawn and tight with worry and fear. He looked into her blue eyes and read the signs of banked tears. He heard her thoughts and the wild, discordant prayers that she whispered as if they alone were enough to keep her safe.

And something inside him opened, welling, with a need he hadn’t known in centuries. To comfort. To care for.

Rogan swiped one hand across his jaw, pulled in a breath and steadied himself. He wouldn’t be drawn to this woman, because there could be nothing between them. He’d had his chance at an eternal love and had lost it when his Destined Mate had died at the hand of a demon.

A demon the seer had told him was gone.