Cyrus didn't answer the buzzer rigged up near the back door, but a sliver of light showed through one of the basement windows. I forced the door—not a difficult feat even for someone without enhanced vampire strength—and clattered down the stairs in a rush.

What I saw at the bottom stopped me in my tracks. Cyrus's apartment door, open a crack.

I swallowed my fear and stepped forward, knocking timidly. The door creaked and swayed a little, and I choked as I called, "Is anybody in there?"

No answer. I gave the door a push. It opened wider. At least a body wasn't blocking it. The bathroom light was on, illuminating a wedge of the main room. The cupboards on the far wall hung open, their shelves bare. The dishes and nonperishable food were scattered on the floor. The cushions were thrown from the couch. A high-pitched, three-tone whine sounded from somewhere, followed by a muffled, "If you would like to make a call, please hang up and dial again" announcement. I spotted a loop of coiled phone cord poking out from beneath one shredded pillow on the unfolded sofa bed. I grabbed it and reeled in the phone and very broken answering machine.

My message.

A sob clawed its way up my throat as my brain reconstructed the events that must have led to the destruction around me. Of course, Dahlia would have heard the message. And of course, she would have flown into a rage and wrecked the place. But had she taken Cyrus with her when she'd gone? Had he staggered to the hospital or called the police for help?

I wrote the latter off. With my senses on hyperalert all day, I would have heard the sirens.

I paced the floor, breathing deeply, willing my blood to stop beating in my ears. Then I caught the coppery, warm scent of external blood. Maybe he'd left a trail. If it was fresh enough, I could follow it.

Two steps out the door, I remembered the one room I hadn't checked.

How I'd missed the bathroom, I would never know. The cracked tile floor was coated with blood. Scarlet handprints smeared the walls. It was like a scene out of a horror movie, and splayed right in the middle of the floor was Cyrus.

"Not" I knelt at his side in what seemed like way too much blood for one human being to lose and still be alive. My brain flashed back to the night I'd first seen him, in a bloody mess much worse than this. But he'd been a vampire then. I checked for a pulse, though it seemed futile. He must have lain here all day. Unbelievably, he was still alive.

His eyes slowly opened, slid from side to side before focusing on me. "Carrie?"

I laid one hand on his chest to gauge his shallow respiration. "I'm here."