Terrace Park, it seemed, was nearly as popular after dark as it was during the day, although the nature and species of its visitors had changed. As Emma followed Boo along the path that led to the lake, her Moroi eyes caught glimpses of the supernatural in the shadows: a gnarled dryad crouching in the branches of the aged apple tree, the quick brightness that could've been a firefly had it not been for the childlike laughter of the fairy as it passed.
Each small motion drew a quiet gasp from Emma. She quickened her steps to keep pace with Boo, who, Emma noted enviously, seemed as calm and self-assured as if they were taking a noon-time stroll. Her own heart fluttered with the furious cadence of a startled rabbit's, as if she'd run the entire distance from the apartment to the park.
"I can take you back to the van, if you wish," the Damphir offered, tilting her head to regard Emma with eyes that burned a brilliant shade of turquoise. Emma shook her head, moonlight illuminating wisps of blue hair as it swirled about her face. The offer was tempting. Although she was nocturnal, the night held many dangers for her as a Moroi. The scent of her blood drew the soulless Strigoi like beggars to a bakery, and since the park hadn't been warded to keep them out, the two women had no guarantee that their mission wouldn't be interrupted by a Strigoi looking for a midnight snack. Boo was more than capable of taking on any attackers, but that knowledge didn't lessen the fear that filled her lungs and made taking a full breath impossible.
Only one thing kept Emma from turning tail and running like the frightened child she felt herself to be: Petrov. The Pack's beloved lunatic was fading fast, thanks to the virus he'd been injected with. After the promise of an antidote had proved to be a lie, the Pack had begun investigating other options. As precious time passed, relying on the doctors to find a solution was beginning to look more and more like a fool's hope. The original creator of the virus was dead, murdered by the Strigoi who'd injected Petrov. Every path they'd pursued had been cut short by one complication after another.
Then they'd stumbled across a rumor about another family of vampires in town, vampires who were neither Strigoi nor Moroi. These vampires, it was said, were able to change others into vampires as well, much like the stories human children told to keep each other up late at night. If they could find one, they were told, it might be possible to persuade him or her to change Petrov. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it would save his life.
After a bit of detective work, during which more time passed like priceless diamonds dropped into a well, the Pack came up with a name: Rai Varro. They were also given a list of places he was likely to be spotted. They'd begun their hunt tonight, Zeke and Bosco club-hopping and Emma and Boo patrolling the park.
It was a desperate venture, and Emma found herself distracted from her fears of Strigoi by thoughts of Petrov. He'd been so weak when they'd left; what if he died before they could bring him help? What if she would never see him alive again? As they approached the lake, Emma entwined her fingers with Boo's for reassurance. How she wished she had Boo's level head!
The lake shimmered, transformed into a silvery mirror by the moonlight, and had she not been worrying about other things, Emma would've found it beautiful. Instead, her eyes traveled the banks, searching for the dark figure of the man she hoped would save Petrov. "There," Boo murmured, extending a hand to point towards a gazebo that stood on a small hill near the lake. Shadows shifted within its bounds, and as the two women drew closer, Emma realized this was no traditional couple taking advantage of the romantic view. From the sound of it, there were at least three people in there, and they weren't sharing campfire stories either.
When they reached the gazebo, Emma paused just outside, embarrassed by the knowledge of what they were intruding on. Boo apparently had no such qualms, striding into the small, open structure and putting her hands on her hips. Looking rather intimidating in a black tank top and cameo pants, she surveyed the scene with a lofted eyebrow. "Excuse me for interrupting," she said in a firm voice that indicated she didn't really regret doing any such thing, "but I need to speak with you. Now." Her voice was directed at the only male in attendance, the one who fit their description of Rai to the letter.