“Where am I?” He sat up, the motion of whatever vehicle he was in setting him temporarily off his balance. A nagging sense that something was wrong, beyond the fact that he’d been kidnapped naked again, plagued him.

“You’re in the back of Ziggy’s van.”

He recognized the voice in an instant of raw pain.

“Do you remember who he was?”

“Honestly, I don’t.” Cyrus rubbed his eyes and looked around the space for something to cover himself with. “No, wait. The boy. He was Nolen’s son.”

And you’re my fledgling, he added silently. Or, you were.

“Good. Glad to see you retained your memory. I worried you had forgotten.” She sounded distracted. The van lurched around a corner.

“Where are you taking me?” The feeling that he was forgetting something, something very important, crept up again.

“Back to Michigan. You’re going to help us fix what’s happened to Nathan.”

The unmistakable sensation of motion sickness overwhelmed Cyrus. “Stop the car. I’m going to be ill.”

To his surprise, the van lurched to a halt and the driver’s door ground open on rusty hinges. Seconds later, the back doors opened, revealing a dark, desert highway and endless night sky.

And Carrie.

Fear, embarrassment, pain and relief cascaded in a wave over him. Disoriented, he reached for her, but she stepped back, cold and unyielding as ever. She still wore her fair hair scraped back from her face in a severe ponytail, still glared at him with her cold, blue eyes. He’d looked into those eyes once and prayed to see a bit of warmth, some sign of loving acceptance.

That memory sparked the nagging feeling of having misplaced something, and he scrambled from the van, falling to his knees on the shoulder of the road.

Mouse!

“You have to take me back,” he insisted before he heaved up his dinner on the sand. He got to his feet, head still reeling from the effects of whatever she’d used to drug him. “I have to go back.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Carrie followed him the few steps he managed away from the van.

“They’re going to kill her.” Words seemed impossible. He couldn’t get them in the right order, couldn’t think of the ones that would convince her to take him to Mouse. “I don’t know anything about Nolen, just let me go back. I love her.”

“Right. Like you loved me.” Carrie laughed, becoming for a moment the great, heartless creation he’d wanted her to be. He should have been careful what he’d wished for. “Listen, I’m not letting you run back to your undead girlfriend so you two can plot whatever you’ve got going.”

Undead? “No, you don’t understand.” But he couldn’t make her understand, either. He was drunk from…was it chloroform? A bitter trickle stung the back of his throat. “Please, I have to go back.”

She stepped closer, squinting at him as though she could see into his mind and detect an ulterior motive.