"Night, Reggie."
"Goodnight, Mike."
Regan slipped the phone back into her bag, then stared out the window, shivering convulsively.
"He is only trying to frighten you," Santiago said.
"Why would Mike want to frighten me?"
"Not Flynn," Santiago said. "Vasile."
She glanced at Joaquin. "Are you going to tell me that werewolves are making clones now? Anyway, that kind of thing was outlawed years ago."
"I do not think Vasile has much use for the law."
She couldn't argue with that.
"Even though he is trying to frighten you, the message was for me."
"What do you mean?"
Santiago looked at her. "I think you know."
She did know. Fear tightened its grip on her as she stared out the window again. Killing a woman who could be her twin was Vasile's way of telling Santiago that he intended to kill her.
The next two nights on the road passed pretty much the same as the first one. They traveled after sunset and they rested during the day.
Now it was night again. Tomorrow night they would reach the Black Hills. Regan glanced up at the sky, at a moon that all too soon would be full, then looked down at her hands, trying to imagine them turning into paws. She ran the pad of her thumb over the ends of her fingernails, trying to imagine them as claws…
"Regan."
She looked over at Santiago, blinking rapidly to keep from crying.
"We will find the shaman."
"What if we don't? What if there isn't any cure?" She clenched her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid."
Reaching across the space between them, he folded his hand over hers. His touch was soothing, comforting. She felt her fears melt away. He would protect her, and would risk his life to do so. "Thank you for coming with me."
"You asked me once if I would rather be a werewolf or a vampire," he said. "Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"What would you rather be?"
"Neither! But if I had to choose, I guess I'd want to be a werewolf. I don't want to hide from the sun. I don't want to drink blood. I don't want to be dead and yet not dead."
"We are dead but not dead. We are Undead. There is a difference, though it is hard to explain. Vampires can learn to control the craving for blood. And now, with synthetic blood, there is no need to hunt."
"But there are still vampires who hunt for prey, vampires who would kill if they could."
"Yes, but humans also kill, and for far less reason than the need to survive."
"That's true, I guess."
"Werewolves, on the other hand, have no control over the urge to kill. When the moon is full, they must shift. Any animal or human that crosses their path when the moon is full is doomed."
"Are there other werewolves besides Vasile?"
"Yes, though no one knows how many. Some say the number must be small. Others disagree."
"So they're not extinct," she murmured. "Damn."
"Long ago, werewolf packs roamed every country in the world, but they were hunted to near extinction. Now it is believed that there are only thirteen packs remaining out of a hundred or more."
"Thirteen," Regan murmured. "Unlucky."
He grunted softly. "Most of them are located in Europe. There is evidence that their numbers are growing. Last I heard, Vasile's pack was located in the forests of Romania, which makes me wonder again what he is doing here, and if he came alone."
Regan nodded. She knew she should be worried about Vasile and what evil he might be concocting, but at the moment, right or wrong, she was more worried about her own future.
"If we cannot find the shaman," Santiago said, "if he has no cure, I can bring you across if we do it before the full moon."
"You mean, make me a vampire?"
He nodded. "Think about it, just in case." Fanged and furry, or fanged and Undead? It was, she thought glumly, one heck of a choice.
Before sunup, Santiago found a motel where they could spend the day. Regan ate breakfast in the restaurant across the street while Santiago secured their room and then went in search of prey.
She was on her second cup of coffee when he slid into the booth across from her. As always, she couldn't help noticing how attractive he was, or that he moved with a kind of fluid grace that defied description.
"Were you… successful?" she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know.
"Of course. I took what I needed and sent her happily on her way, none the worse for the experience."
"Why don't you just drink the synthetic stuff?" she asked. "I'd think it would be easier. On everyone."
He snorted derisively. "Have you ever tasted it?"
"Of course not."
"If you had, you would know the answer."
"I thought it was supposed to taste just like the real thing."
"Not even close."
"Then why do you keep some in your refrigerator?"
He shrugged. "For emergencies. For an occasional guest." He glanced out the window. The sky was turning light in the east. "Are you about through?"
Regan followed his gaze. "Yes, let's go."
Santiago paid the bill and darted across the street to their motel room. Grabbing her handbag, Regan hurried after him.
It was pretty much like every other motel room she had ever seen—a queen-sized bed flanked by matching nightstands, a dresser, and a portable Satellite Screen bolted to the wall. The carpet was an unremarkable shade of brown. The bathroom had a combination tub and shower. The countertop was puke green.
Regan glanced around, dismayed when she realized there was only one room.
She looked over at Santiago, and quickly looked away.
"It troubles you that there is only one room."
"Yeah."
"Afraid I might want to share your bed?"
She stared at him, wondering why the thought wasn't as repulsive as it should have been. She really was losing her mind, she thought, to even consider sleeping in the same bed with a vampire, no matter how sexy he was, or how attracted she was to him.
"Not to worry," he said dryly. "I will sleep on the floor under the bed."
"Under the bed? Wouldn't it be easier to just get another room? I mean, I haven't noticed anyone following us, have you?"
"No, but I will not leave you alone."
"I admire your sense of chivalry, I really do, but…" She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. "I don't know what help you'll be if Vasile happens to show up while you're asleep."