Chapter
28
Kaitlyn was surprised to see her mother
in the dining room in the morning. Usually, her mom and dad kept
the same hours.
“Hi, Mom. What are you doing up so
early?”
“Don’t you know what day it
is?”
Kaitlyn looked at her mother
blankly.
Elena shook her head. “Have you
forgotten today is your birthday?”
“It is? It is! Oh my gosh, I can’t
believe I forgot that!”
“Zack Ravenscroft must really have your
head in the clouds.” Grinning, Elena hugged her daughter. “Ah,
young love, it’s a wonderful thing. Happy birthday,
sweetie.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Your dad and I are planning a party
for you later tonight, but I wanted to spend today with you, just
the two of us, like we used to. What would you like for
breakfast?”
“Blueberry pancakes, bacon, and toast.”
It had been her favorite breakfast ever since she was a little
girl.
“Coming right up.”
Kaitlyn followed her mother into the
kitchen. When she started to help, her mother shooed her away. “Not
today. Just sit over there and watch.”
Rolling her eyes, Kaitlyn hopped up on
the stool in the corner. “What kind of party?”
“Oh, the usual, you know. Balloons and
presents and dancing under the stars.” Elena put the bacon in a
pan, mixed the batter, and poured it on the griddle. When the
pancakes and bacon were almost done, she dropped the bread into the
toaster.
“At least let me set the table,”
Kaitlyn said.
“Already done.” Elena placed everything
on a tray and carried it into the dining room.
Kaitlyn trailed at her heels. “Oh,
Mom,” Kaitlyn said when she saw how her mother had decorated the
room. “It’s lovely.”
A pink cloth covered the table. A
crystal vase held a dozen roses. There were colorful balloons
everywhere, a dress-up silver crown beside her plate.
Kaitlyn grinned when she saw the crown.
Her mother had given her one every year for as long as she could
remember. It wouldn’t be a birthday without it.
“Please, sit, Your Highness,” Elena
said. She placed the tiara on Kaitlyn’s head. “The roses are from
your father.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“Best eat those pancakes while they’re
hot,” Elena said.
“Looks good, as always.” Kaitlyn helped
herself to several pancakes, three strips of bacon, as well as a
slice of buttered toast.
“Milk or orange juice?” Elena
asked.
“OJ.”
“This is nice.” Taking a seat across
from her daughter, Elena filled her own plate. “I’ve missed our
mornings together.”
Kaitlyn nodded. When she lived at
Wolfram, she adjusted her waking hours to the ones her father kept
so she could spend time with her parents. In Tahoe, her hours had
been erratic. Sometimes she adhered to mortal hours; sometimes she
kept vampire hours. Especially after meeting Zack.
She smiled inwardly. Zack. She could
hardly wait to see him.
“So, what do you want for your
birthday?” Elena asked.
“I don’t know. It’ll be pretty hard to
top what you gave me for graduation and my birthday last
year.”
“True.”
“I really don’t need anything,” Kaitlyn
said.
“Well, think about it.”
“I will. These pancakes are great,”
Kaitlyn said. “I forgot what a good cook you are.”
“It’s nice to have someone to cook for
besides myself.”
Kaitlyn ate in silence for several
minutes, thinking about what her mother had just said. “Mom, do you
ever regret marrying Dad?”
“Of course not. Why would you ask such
a thing?”
“It must be hard sometimes, living with
a vampire. Eating alone all the time. Never being able to go out
together during the day. You know, stuff like that.”
“No relationship is perfect. I don’t
always eat alone. Sometimes I dine with Northa and the other women.
And your father often sits with me . . .” She paused, brow
furrowed. “Kaitlyn, you’ve only known Zack a short time. You’re not
seriously thinking of marrying him, are you?”
“Why shouldn’t I marry a vampire? You
did.”
“I know, but . . .” Elena paused. “I
was about to say that the two of you are different kinds of
vampires, but that argument doesn’t really hold water, does it? I
mean, your father and I are different and yet we’ve been happy
together. We’ve had to make compromises, yes, but every couple has
to make adjustments. Still, marrying a vampire isn’t like marrying
someone from another religion.” She smiled wistfully. “I guess it
would be easier for you, all things considered.”
“I love him, Mom, with all my heart. I
can’t imagine my life without him.”
Elena nodded. “You’re old enough to
make up your own mind, sweetheart. Whatever you decide is all right
with me.”
Kaitlyn reached across the table and
squeezed her mother’s hand. “Thanks, Mom. For
everything.”
After breakfast, Kaitlyn went into the
library to read while her mother went to take care of some
household chores.
Sitting there, an unopened book on her
lap, Kaitlyn remembered how it had been, growing up at Wolfram.
Before she went to school, she had kept the same hours as her
parents, but that had changed when she turned five. Her mother had
considered teaching Kaitlyn at home, but after thinking it over,
she had decided that Kaitlyn needed to have the opportunity to play
with other kids her age, that she needed to learn how to interact
in a group, and to share.
And so her mother had changed her
routine to accommodate Kaitlyn’s schedule. Thinking about it now,
she realized her father must have changed his sleeping habits, as
well. It must have been hard on her mother, trying to arrange it so
she could spend time with a daughter who slept at night and a
husband who slept most of the day.
Kaitlyn stretched her back and
shoulders. She wouldn’t have to make any adjustments like that if
she married Zack. Zack couldn’t have children, so it would be easy
to keep the same hours he did.
Zack. She ran her fingertips over her
lips as she recalled how he had kissed her last night. It was
probably just her imagination, but she was certain she could still
taste him.
Zack. Right or wrong, she wanted him
with every fiber of her being, yearned for him with every breath.
Until she’d met him, she had never believed in love at first sight,
or soul mates, or that there was just one perfect man for every
woman. But she believed it now.
She opened the book and tried to read,
but instead of seeing the words on the page, she saw Zack’s
image—dark gray eyes that were sometimes enigmatic but always
beautiful. She loved the shape of his mouth, his smile that was
sometimes cynical but always sexy. She loved the way he kissed her,
the way being in his arms made her feel loved and protected. If she
could have assembled the perfect man, he would have looked just
like Zack.
Setting the book aside, she left the
library. The Fortress was unusually quiet as she walked down the
hallway. Kaitlyn grinned. No doubt her mother was holed up with
Northa and some of the other women making last-minute preparations
for her upcoming birthday party.
Kaitlyn stopped in midstride when the
doorbell rang. It wasn’t an ordinary doorbell, of course, but a
bell that resounded through the whole house.
Kaitlyn hurried toward the front
entrance. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought there would
probably be a present waiting for her when she got
there.
She paused when she reached the front
door. “Who’s there?” she asked, suddenly cautious.
“Victoria Galleries. I have a delivery
for Kaitlyn Sherrad.”
She smiled as she opened the
door.
A man wearing a uniform stood on the
porch beside an enormous box wrapped in brightly colored paper.
“Miss Sherrad?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to sign this, please.” He
held out a digital clipboard.
“Certainly.” Wondering what on earth
could be in such a large box, Kaitlyn reached for the clipboard,
gasped when the man grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her
outside. Before she could scream, he jabbed a needle in her arm.
The effect was immediate. As if in slow motion, she watched him
lift the lid on the box. She tried to scream when he picked her up,
but only a whisper emerged. She tried to fight him off, but she had
lost all control of her arms and legs. As if she was a rag doll, he
dumped her into the box and replaced the lid.
And her world faded to
black.
Zack rose with the setting of the sun,
his first thought for Kaitlyn. He took a quick shower, pulled on a
pair of clean pants and a gray shirt, combed his hair, and left his
room.
As soon as he stepped into the
corridor, he knew something was wrong. The sound of angry voices
drew him toward the council chamber. He paused outside the door. It
was closed and he hesitated to go inside. Until he heard Kaitlyn’s
name.
When he stepped into the room, all eyes
swung in his direction. Zack nodded at Drake, who stood on the dais
in the front of the room. Elena stood beside her husband, her face
pale, her eyes swollen and red. The thirteen chairs at the
horseshoe-shaped table were all occupied.
“Zack,” Elena said, “do you know where
Kaitlyn is?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her
since last night. Why? Is something wrong?”
“She’s missing. We’ve looked
everywhere. No one has seen her since late this morning,” Elena
said. “I even checked your room while you were sleeping. . . .” She
smiled apologetically.
Zack looked from Elena to Drake. “You
don’t think that I . . .”
“No, of course not,” her father said.
He sat down heavily. “There can be only one answer,” he said, his
voice as cold as glacier ice. “Nadiya.”
“But how?” Stefan asked.
“A good question,” Ciprian said. “Since
Kaitlyn’s return, we have placed additional wards around the
Fortress to warn us of intruders.”
“Maybe the intruder didn’t come in,”
Zack remarked. “Maybe Katy went out.”
Drake stared at him a moment, then
nodded. “Andrei, I want you to go to the Korzha estate and see if
anyone is there. Liam, go to the Russian Fortress and see if they
have heard anything. Stefan, visit the Italians, Ciprian, the
Fortress in Ireland. If we want to find Kaitlyn, we must find
Nadiya.”
Zack shook his head as he listened to
Drake assign the other members of the council to Fortresses
throughout the world. It was, he thought, a waste of time and
energy. But he understood Drake’s need to be doing something,
anything.
Leaving the council chamber, Zack
returned to his room and shut the door. Standing in the middle of
the floor, he closed his eyes and opened his vampiric senses,
searching for the blood bond that had been forged between himself
and Kaitlyn.
After twenty minutes, he gave up.
Either she was dead—an option he refused to consider—or she was
unconscious.
Swearing under his breath, he began to
pace the floor. Whether she was dead or alive, he would find her,
and God help the man or woman who had taken her.