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Автор Maggie Shayne
Praise for the novels of
MAGGIE SHAYNE
“The latest from bestseller Shayne is an interesting, inventive tale. ”
—Publishers Weekly on Demon’s Kiss
“Suspense, mystery, danger and passion—no one does them better than Maggie Shayne. ”
—Romance Reviews Today on Darker Than Midnight
“A tasty, tension-packed read. ”
—Publishers Weekly on Thicker Than Water
“Maggie Shayne demonstrates an absolutely superb touch, blending fantasy and romance into an outstanding reading experience. ”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Embrace the Twilight
“Maggie Shayne is better than chocolate. She satisfies every wicked craving. ”
—New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Forster
“Maggie Shayne delivers sheer delight, and fans new and old of her vampire series can rejoice. ”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Twilight Hunger
“Shayne’s haunting tale is intricately woven…. A moving mix of high suspense and romance, this haunting Halloween thriller will propel readers to bolt their doors at night!”
—Publishers Weekly on The Gingerbread Man
“Shayne’s talent knows no bounds!”
—Rendezvous
“Maggie Shayne delivers romance with sweeping intensity and bewitching passion. ”
—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz
MAGGIE SHAYNE
BLOODLINE
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
1
My first thought upon waking was that maybe I was dead. It wasn’t until much later that I realized how accurate that initial, intuitive and seemingly irrational notion was. It popped into my consciousness as soon as consciousness itself appeared. It made no sense. It was based upon no reason. It was just there.
I must be dead.
And just as quickly as it had come, the thought was gone again.
I wasn’t dead. I was cold. But it was an odd kind of cold, because it didn’t make me shiver or feel uncomfortable, it was just an awareness of the fact.
I was cold. And I was wet, too.I opened my eyes slowly and blinked to wipe away the blur of sleep, for I must have been asleep. It was dark. Newborn darkness, though. It had that sense to it, though I wasn’t sure at that moment how it was I could sense newborn darkness from any other kind. It wasn’t something I would have thought came naturally to ordinary people. And it was certainly nothing I’d ever noticed before.
Or had I?
Oddly, I didn’t remember, but I dismissed the slightly queasy feeling that notion brought to my stomach and focused instead on my surroundings. The immediate ones first. Beneath me, dirt. Solid packed, damp, but not muddy. A few scraggly patches of crabgrass and dandelions struggling for survival here and there, and looking proud of their triumph in such inhospitable conditions. All right, then. I was on the ground. Not flat ground, but a hillside that sloped precariously downward to a stretch of pavement at the bottom. And on the other side of that pavement, another patch of ground, sloping upward—a mirror image of the one on which I lay. And above them both…a ceiling?
