Taking The Night (Nightshade series Book 1)

by J F Posthumus

  Laughing, Selia shook her head. “Oh, no, he definitely does not.” She sighed contentedly and leaned against Soren's chest. “So much has changed, Papa. There's so much I have to tell you. You were right, you know, about there being another player. She isn't dead, and she's a Temerian necromancer.”

  Soren stroked her back and leaned against her. “Tell me what happened.” He kissed her forehead.

  “I'll give you the short version, for now.” She gave him a recap of everything that had happened, before turning back to the subject of her and Wil. “He got caught and I had to cast a spell to find him. It was a spell to locate a life-mate. The spell worked, and it took me to him.”

  Selia paused and took a moment to enjoy feeling perfectly comfortable and at home in Soren's arms. Soren, meanwhile, was rubbing her back as though she were his birth daughter and had done it from her childhood. It felt comforting and natural. Something she’d been missing her entire life.

  “That isn’t all of it,” Soren said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “The necromancer, Moreisa, and Alfi had caught him. We got away, taking out pretty much everyone in the warehouse. When we finally figured out where Alfi and Moreisa were hiding out, I ended up being caught by her.” Selia leaned away from Soren and stared into his eyes. “I... I don't know if I have the knowledge in magic to defeat her, Papa. If it hadn't been for the Sandman, she would have killed me.”

  “So, he saved you,” Soren mused. “Why didn't he kill the woman?”

  “He tried, but she teleported out before either of us could,” she explained, a tad grumpy. “There was also the fact he had to fight his way out of a room full of reanimated corpses before he could get to the roof where she had taken me.” Selia giggled. “I should probably also tell you that it wasn't another woman I was with that one night. I shoved him into the shower to keep from being caught. I've never been so glad that Alex and Bernie don't know about my magical skills.”

  Soren burst out laughing. It took him several moments to compose himself, and he leaned on her as he did. “Were you two in the middle of... anything?” he finally gasped.

  Selia's mouth dropped open even as she felt her face burn. “No!” She exclaimed. “We haven't done anything!” A scowl formed as she grumbled, “Not that I haven't tried. But, no, he refuses to do anything just yet, despite all my best attempts at the contrary. Damn it.”

  "My, my. What reason has he given for refusing your advances?" Soren asked, genuinely interested.

  Crossing her arms, she glowered out the window, almost petulant. “He wants me to be at my fittest, doesn't want anything to interrupt us...” She trailed off, still annoyed. “The one time I'm trying to jump a guy at every turn, and he refuses! What the hell is wrong with him?”

  “He doesn't want to disappoint you,” explained Soren. “He wants to eliminate as many chances as possible to make the experience the best he can.”

  She gave a sigh and turned back to Soren. “Have any suggestions?” It felt right asking him for advice. She guessed this was what it felt like to have a father who loved her.

  “Stop going out at night to break teenagers' hearts and businessmen's faces,” he said with only a little exasperation. “Give yourself, and him, a chance to have an evening free of distraction. If he doesn't step up to the plate, then he's either too intimidated by you... or he has a small cannoli.”

  She certainly couldn't say he had a 'small cannoli', not after seeing him in his white briefs. A girlish grin pulled at her lips as she ducked her head.

  “Um, do you think we could throw a masquerade party?” Selia asked, changing the topic, as a thought occurred to her. “I'm sure we can come up with a good reason for it, if Al asks.”

  “Sure. I don't need a reason. I just got out of the hospital. Where do you want to have it?” he asked.

  “Somewhere he won't feel threatened by the Families,” Selia replied without thinking. Realizing what she'd said, she blushed. “This is going to be an interesting relationship, isn't it?”

  “Most of the good ones are,” Soren quipped. “Now, go get your man. We need to speak.”

  “Okay,” Selia replied, almost uncertainly. She poked her head out into the hall and found Wil standing beside the door, leaning against the wall. “Um, he wants to talk to you.”

  Wil came in and stood before Soren. He stood in a way that was respectful but unyielding. The phrase “immovable object, meet irresistible force” blinked through Selia's mind. The men faced each other for a long moment.

  “You understand,” Soren began, “that if you are responsible for any harm coming to her, you are going to lose both kneecaps? That's going to just be the warm-up?”

  “Oh, I do,” Wil said immediately. “I am also aware that if I do something to harm her, she's going to beat you to my kneecaps... and the rest of me.”

  Soren held for a moment before laughing aloud. He put his hand out to Wil. “You have my blessing... provisionally.”

  “I understand the provisions, and accept them,” Wil said, taking Soren's hand and shaking it. “You have, no doubt, noticed that I only intervene on Family business that involves breaking the law? Violence, drugs, that sort of thing?”

  “Among other things,” Soren corrected. “You, I trust, have been aware that my personal business dealings have been aimed at more legitimate business practices?”

  “I am. All business money is blood money in some ways,” Wil observed. “We may just get along.”

  “Yes, we just might,” agreed Soren.

  Epilogue

  T he Sandman ended his patrol early that night. The peace on the streets, uneasy and temporary as it no doubt was, was still in effect. He came in through the lair's entrance, entering the sub-basement and securing the door once he was inside.

  The motion-sensitive cameras were equipped in every room of the lair and townhouse he used as his personal home, tracked every movement he made, every step he took. That wasn't why he had installed them, of course. The purpose was to make sure that if anyone entered, there was a record of what happened.

  Wil's routine in the morning was to exercise, eat breakfast, and check the recordings. He hardly ever had a reason to keep them, so they were deleted every night. Even the files of when Selia had been there had been deleted, out of respect.

  After securing the sub-basement, he removed his equipment and placed them in their proper racks, shelves, hidden compartments, and so forth. His uniform came off next. He put it onto the mannequin that helped the uniform keep its shape when he wasn't wearing it. Every careful, considerate motion was viewable on the laptop computer in his office and the desktop he kept in the lair. He had them linked to each other so he could retrieve or delete files between both systems.

  Sitting at his grandmother's vanity, he removed that evening's choice of wax moldings and other prosthetic appliances that concealed his true appearance. He did not notice that his laptop was not in its usual place, because he did not look at his desk before he exited the lair for his bedroom in the adjoining townhouse, wearing only his underwear.

  He opened the bedroom door and was taken completely by surprise. He did not anticipate that his lair and home had been invaded, and that his own security measures were being used against him.

  Selia raised her gaze from the laptop screen, a sly, sultry smile on her lips. Stretched out beneath his covers, the sheets pulled up to her chin, only her arms were visible. She set the laptop on the nightstand next to the bed.

  “I have to admit, I didn't expect you to take quite so long undressing and putting everything away.”

  “It's a methodical process for me,” Wil admitted. “So, why have you invaded my humble abode?”

  “Oh, I thought I'd come over and torture you when I know something can happen,” Selia said, almost nonchalantly. “Since I'm at my best and there won't be any distractions.”

  “Oh, are you, now?” Wil said. The corners of his lips twitched as he kept a smile from appearing.

 
Tossing the covers to the side, she revealed she wore nothing more than a hungry, sultry smile.

  “One way to find out,” she challenged him.

  Smiling broadly, Wil ‘the Sandman’ Fredericks, entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  The End