THE DOOR AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRWAY HAS no lock. Before I leave the cellar, I heave one of the crates against the wall. A cascade of gold and silver coins tumbles out. It's not the contents of the crate I'm interested in, though, but the heavy wood that held it. I choose two boards.
The last image I see of Sandra is a half-wolf, half-human form curled in a fetal position on the floor. Her face is distorted by pain; she is whimpering in anguish. Avery is fighting her.
She clutches the talisman in a hand that's more beast than human. Her eyes are clear. Her resolve strong.
She'll win.
I pull the door shut and jam the boards against the handle. A physically strong, determined human might be able to break out. I doubt a wolf could.
It's not until I'm back upstairs, in Avery's bedroom, that my own rage takes over. I rip the bedclothes off the bed and throw them into the fire. I use my hands to tear apart the mattress and feed it piece by piece into the fire. If I could, I'd dismantle the bed. It's too heavy, too well constructed to yield to bare-handed vampire strength. I have to content myself with destroying anything that my skin comes in contact with, anything that touched Avery's body. When I'm finished, the only smell left is ash and smoke.
I sink into a chair, watch the smoldering remains of the dying fire. Wonder what is happening in the secret room deep beneath my feet.
Tamara wanted what?
Wealth?
A life in this mausoleum of a house?
All she had to do was kill me, and let Sandra die. Avery would jump to her body and the union would be complete. One beast inhabiting the body of another. Was immortality part of the bargain?
With me gone, there would be no obstacle to claiming Avery's estate. What she, what no one, seems to understand is that I would have gladly given it away. I will give it away. To Sandra when Avery is dead. Theirs may not have been a civil marriage, but the hellish union they experienced makes her more an heir than I will ever be.
The vineyard. What about the vineyard? Images of my parents and Trish, excited, exuberant, thrilled beyond words by the unexpected gift of a new life. How can I tell them the truth?
And Williams. What do I do about him?
I have no answers. Not yet.
The fire's last sputtering gasp is my signal to leave. A bedside clock reads 3:00 p.m. I look once more around a room I hope never to see again.
As I turn to leave, a muffled sound drifts up from the bowels of the earth.
The howl of a wolf.