No matter where you go, I’ll always be able to find you, just as you will always be able to find me. Those words followed Holly to sleep that night and replayed in her mind upon waking in the morning. Again, she wondered if tasting him had been such a good idea. What if she didn’t want him to find her? What if she didn’t want to find him? And what if she did? Did she just twitch her nose to make him appear? Or maybe, like the Bloody Mary legend, she could look in a mirror and call his name three times. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled on her robe. “All right, Mr. Ravenwood, if it’s true, where are you?” And suddenly, without knowing how, she knew where he was. Barefooted, she followed the invisible link that led her out of Shirley’s bedroom—it would never be her bedroom, Holly thought, or her home—and up the hill to Blair House. She had expected the front door to be locked, but it opened at her touch. All the drapes in the house were drawn tight, but the blood bond led her unerringly through the dark rooms, down a set of narrow wooden steps she had never noticed before, to a heavy steel door.
