Free Eternal by Kristi Cook Page A

glancing down at my watch. “Now!”
    *  *  *
    “You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Sophie asked, her hazel eyes troubled. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, a soda in one hand. Our weekend pass had been successfully acquired, and we’d taken the afternoon train into Manhattan and stopped for takeout burgers and fries before heading over to Patsy’s. Now that we were done eating, I was eager to get over to Aidan’s and test the key.
    “I really think I need to do this alone. Whatever I find”—I swallowed hard, imagining the possibilities—“or don’t find, I can handle it.”
    “You’ve got your stake?”
    I pointed to my black messenger bag. “Got it.”
    “Maybe you should call Dr. Byrne.” Sophie was wringing her hands now.
    “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Clearly Trevors wants me to go over there, and I trust him. Patsy’s staying over at Paul’s, so you’ve got the place to yourself. I won’t be gone long. I promise. I’m just going to go check things out.”
    “Okay,” she conceded. “Just . . . text me when you get there. And when you’re on your way back.”
    “Deal,” I said.
    It was a quick, easy walk from Patsy’s to Aidan’s town house, but I took a cab anyway, tipping the driver generously. My heartwas banging around in my chest as I stepped out of the cab and made my way up the stairs to the black-lacquered door.
    The snow had mostly melted in the city by now—still, it was obvious that someone had recently shoveled Aidan’s walkway. It was clean and dry, without a trace of the dirty, melting slush that remained on the edges of the sidewalk. That was a good sign, I decided. It hinted at recent occupation.
    I tried the brass lion’s-head knocker first with no response and then paused to search my instincts. Was he here? He had to be, I decided. Why else would Trevors have sent me the key? And yet . . . I didn’t sense his presence. I didn’t sense Trevors’s, either.
    Please let him be here. Please, please, please.
    I repeated the words in my head like a prayer, over and over again as I took the key from my bag and attempted to fit it into the lock. My hands were shaking so badly that it took several tries, but eventually it slid into place.
    Holding my breath, I turned the key and pushed open the door. I was greeted by the high-pitched beeping of a security alarm. I reached blindly for the switch and flipped on the foyer light and stepped inside, quickly punching in the code on the alarm’s keypad, silencing it. Before I forgot, I retrieved my cell phone from my bag and texted Sophie— I’m here! —then stuffedmy cell into my back pocket. My sneakers squeaked noisily against the marble-tiled floor as I took off my coat and hung it on the umbrella stand by the door with my bag, then turned to survey my surroundings.
    The house was eerily silent, the air slightly musty and stale. Drapes were drawn shut, furniture covered by canvas cloths. It was immediately obvious that no one was home. Disappointment washing over me, I moved farther inside, past the staircase into the living room, then the dining room, flipping on lights as I went. I continued my trek through the kitchen, the TV room, down the hallway that led back to the foyer and the curving marble stairs illuminated by an enormous crystal chandelier.
    One hand trailing along the mahogany banister, I made my way up the stairs, my footfalls echoing loudly in the heavy silence. There were only two bedrooms on the second floor—the enormous master suite and the “rose room,” aptly named for its decor. I entered the rose room first, allowing the memories to rush back. I’d stayed here once, slept in the big antique bed hung with pale pink drapes. It seemed like forever ago—a different lifetime. That night, I’d thought that learning Aidan was a vampire was the craziest, most outlandish truth I’d ever encounter. How wrong I’d been.
    I scanned the room—it looked