He floated to the sidewalk, keeping away from any of the people coming and going from the various buildings around him. The pull on him was strongest toward the narrow alley between two structures. He walked that way and turned into what appeared to be nothing more than a sparsely grass-and-dirt-covered path between the buildings. There were no lights other than what was spilling from the windows on either side.
There was no doubt that others had come this way. The grass had been trampled, and the dirt had been pressed deep and tight. As he continued down the alley, he came to a fork. He could choose either way to proceed. Both sides seemed to be well traveled, and the strange muffled sounds of laughter and multiple conversations were coming from either direction.
Sandu stayed still, listening, filtering through the various voices and the muted music and sudden flare of laughter only to have it cut off abruptly. He caught that one soft note he’d waited for. Her note. She was somewhere behind the buildings in the maze of alleyways. He felt the pull of her and took the very narrow passage to his right. Beneath his feet, the grass and dirt gave way to brick and dirt. He knew others had come this way because he felt the concentration of their cells left behind as they passed. Hair. Skin. Nails. It was all there, unseen by others, but to him, it was glaringly obvious.
Sandu had undertaken many journeys in his life over the far too many years he’d been alive, but none were, perhaps, as foolish as this one. He walked soundlessly along the narrow pathway, following the whisper of the note that had gotten under his skin when nothing ever had—ever could. It was impossible, and yet those whispers called to him in a dark conspiracy he couldn’t ignore. There was something here other than the path leading to his lifemate.
He needed to figure out what he was getting himself into. Where was this often-traveled alley taking him to? He wasn’t alone. No one was behind him. There were people in front of him. Several. More a good distance in front of him. Over his head, on the rooftops, he felt the presence of others, not that they were necessarily paying him attention—at least not yet. He had cloaked his presence for the moment. There was zero fighting room in the alley, and he was assessing the situation.
His life was an endless, empty void. He woke. He took what he needed to survive, and he hunted prey. He was an excellent hunter, and once a target was acquired, it was rare that he missed. But this . . . this was something that was different. Something new in his very long life, and anything new or different was intriguing and therefore potentially dangerous.
Sandu knew he shouldn’t be intrigued—it was an impossibility for his kind. He shouldn’t feel anything at all, and yet—he did. There was an odd thrumming, like the beat of a drum in his veins, answering that whisper of a note he followed. It was as if his very heart tuned to that strange note buried among all the voices he heard. His lungs wanted to breathe in tune to that nearly muted sound. His lifemate. There was no mistake, as much as his mind kept telling him it couldn’t be true that he’d found her.
It had to be a trap. If it was, it was new. He’d seen many over the centuries. He hunted the undead, and the master vampires were skilled and intelligent. They could never be underestimated for one moment. If, as a hunter, one began to believe they were smarter or faster, one would lose their life every time. There was a reason the undead survived long enough to become master vampires. Masters were rarely alone. They had pawns and they used them ruthlessly. They recruited humans. Sometimes psychic humans.
Colors and emotions could only be returned to him by his true lifemate. There was never a mistake. That didn’t mean his lifemate wasn’t under siege, kidnapped or part of the conspiracy to trap him knowingly or unknowingly.
Sandu looked carefully around him before uncloaking his presence. The narrow pathway he was in was very dimly lit. His shoulders barely fit in places. It was the perfect location to ambush the unwary. Above him, anyone could walk along the rooftops and stalk their victims, dropping down quickly to rob them of fat wallets and then hastily disappear back onto the safety of the ridges and gables out of sight.
As he proceeded deeper into the labyrinth of alleyways, beneath his boots, the broken brick and dirt turned to much older cobblestone. He could tell this part of the city had been built over many times. The narrow passageways began to widen, revealing several spacious areas surrounded by small shops.
The sounds. The notes. Perhaps it wasn’t all the sounds or all the notes. He paused to listen, straining when he had such acute hearing, he could track a human miles away. He held his breath and forced his heart to slow to a crawl so he could better hear. Several voices blended together. He heard them clearly through the sounds of many others speaking as they bargained in the various shops or with the street vendors. It was all coming together in his mind now. The various alleys coming in from between buildings were leading to a central location. This had to be, by the smells and sounds, an outdoor alley market, an underground artists’ paradise.
People crowded this odd venue at night, squeezing through the dimly lit and narrow alleys to get to the wider spaces where the street artists displayed their wares. Small shops could be found in the intricate maze, and there were little markets scattered throughout where food and drink could be purchased. This was not a place one found law enforcement, or at least, it was rare to find an officer venturing inside.
Street vendors called out to those crowding around the steps of the shops, trying to entice them to buy from their carts or see their wares. As he came into sight, a small hush fell over the groups of people as they looked up, watching his progress. Anyone in his way quickly moved out of it.
Sandu was used to that reaction to his presence. Not only was he a big man, all flowing muscle, his face carved with angles and planes and harsh lines, but his eyes, so black they were ink, glowed with red flames, especially in the dark, like now. He looked feral. He looked exactly what he was—a predator. He could disguise what he was, but why bother?
He kept walking, not changing his pace, following the soft note buried deep in the sounds of so many others speaking. The closer he got to what he sought, the louder those around it broadcast. He registered everything as he moved along the alleyway that had suddenly opened up into a mini city.
The deeper he immersed himself into that small world, the more there were small shops and back porches and steps, with little markets set up in the wider spaces. It didn’t seem to matter that the narrower paths were dimly lit; the backstreets flourished with life. This was a far different world from the one the streets just beyond portrayed.
A few taverns blared live music from behind closed doors, adding to the chaotic sounds of swelling conversation as Sandu approached the very epicenter of the mini city. The round cobblestoned center held plants surrounding a few trees. Dispelling the darkness were colored, strung lights shining behind the trees, silhouetting twisted branches reaching upward toward the sky. The colors at first dazzled his eyes, even though he’d made every effort to fade the effect. It was difficult not to stare at the vivid red, blue and green shining so brightly. Even the silver was so much more beautiful than a dull gray.
The shops and bars were a little larger here, but not by very much. Artists had their paintings or pottery set up under bright canopies to protect them from weather. At first glance, the roundabout looked chaotic, but Sandu could see there was an order to the madness. Each of the street vendors had their own space and were careful to keep within the confines of that space. They didn’t block the steps leading to the stores directly behind them, allowing customers access to the taverns or shops in the buildings.