by Chloe Adler
Each of the brothers looks down at the table. That’d be a yes.
Caspian
Rhys comes back with a sweet-laden tray and passes the desserts out among the five of us. Then he sits at the head of the table and Iphigenia turns to him expectantly, her bright-blue eyes batting.
“Take a bite and pass it to your right but keep your fork,” he says with a smile that lights up his rugged face in a way I’ve never seen before.
My cousin is good-looking, gentlemanly, and interesting; many women have thrown themselves at his feet. We’ve all had our share, actually, but Rhys and Thorn get the most attention. I assume because they’re both so domineering. And built.
Yet of all the women I’ve seen him with, Rhys has never looked at any of them the way he looks at Iphigenia. And it doesn’t take Dom’s psychology degree to figure out why. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but Rhys has not had an easy life. None of us have, but he was forced to grow up faster than most.
Iphigenia’s looking at Rhys now the exact way I wish she would look at me, but it’s not jealousy working its way up my spine. Rhys and I truly are as close as brothers. We’ve shared food, homes . . . and women.
Iphi takes a bite of her cake, pausing to lick every crumb off her fork. It would be brazen, except she has absolutely no idea what she’s doing to us. The woman is merely enjoying her food. But every one of us has paused over our own plates, eyes fixated on her mouth.
I clear my throat, trying to send some blood back into my brain. “That dessert looks great, Iphigenia. Can I try a bite?”
Her head swivels toward me, her eyes peeking up at me through those thick, pale lashes. A little jolt of electricity pings through my system and I’m pretty sure it’s not just sexual attraction. There’s something so completely different about her.
Watching her on those silks, anyone can see how strong she is, both physically and psychologically. No one can do that without intense inner training and discipline. But there’s also a fragility about her, one that’s apparent in the way she interacts with animals and even with us. The way she reacted to the photo of me in my lion shift was with an innate understanding and acceptance of my inner beast. With love, even. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, blinded by her beauty and compassion.
Still, it’s easy to see she knows we’re hiding something and has chosen not to push us. Because she’s trusting? She has the ability to find the best in anyone, even rogue vampires. That quality is both endearing and terrifying.
But whether she knows it or not, she’s not alone anymore. I may not be a martial arts master like Rhys. I’m certainly not a solid rock like Thorn. I’m not even a fast thinker and talker like Dominic, who can size up any situation in an instant and know how to diffuse it. But I am fast and I am agile. I’ve won more than a few fights by leaping around an opponent until he tires and then punching him once in the face. Maybe I don’t look like a raging bull, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight when it’s needed.
Iphigenia takes another bite of her cake, holding eye contact with me as she does so, her tongue darting out to lick the fork. My pants tighten instantly and I hide a shiver. Her cheeks pinken as though she can read my thoughts and she looks away.
She passes the plate, as do the rest of us, but as soon as Rhys’s treat appears in front of her, she becomes distracted, hovering over it.
We all go back to the desserts before us. Soon, everyone’s mouth is full and one or two of my brethren are actually groaning aloud. Iphigenia stifles a giggle and digs into her own plate. Her eyes roll back in her head as she tastes Rhys’s go-to treat, a warmed apple fritter. Now she’s the one who’s groaning.
After another bite of our desserts, we lean back in our seats, eyes trained on Thorn, our pack leader. He fell naturally into the role when we were kids. Unlike werewolves, shifters don’t usually have pack leaders. For us, it’s more of an organic title. And Thorn wears it well. A weighty silence fills the air, punctuating the sounds from other tables. Teenage girls titter while their dates cajole.
“Iphigenia,” Thorn says.
She leans forward. “Yes?”
“We’ve been told about the unfortunate incident you witnessed last night.”
She bats the comment away with a wave of her hand. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Oh, but it was,” he says, and we all nod in agreement. “It’s not the first time this particular vampire has struck here and it won’t be the last.” He looks at Rhys, whose eyes dart away. Could you be more obvious, man?
“How do you know that?” she asks.
“We’re cops,” says Dominic, “and we have our methods.”
Nice cover.
“Do you know who it is?” Iphigenia asks.
“We have an idea,” Thorn answers.
“And his reasons?”
“Yes, we think we know his motivations as well. He may not have any choice,” says Dominic.
“Everyone has a choice, no?”
“Not those who lack free will,” says Thorn.
“Or those who are cursed,” Dominic adds.
“Or are being extorted.” Thorn again.
“Or controlled.” Rhys finally enters the conversation.
She plops her elbows on the table. “Controlled against their will?”
“It’s just one theory,” says Rhys, but he won’t look at her.
I sit on my hands to keep from slamming them on the table. This is ridiculous. The woman needs to know what we know. The rogue is bad enough, but it’s what follows that terrifies me. The strange illnesses, the disappearances, the shattered lives. What’s the purpose of keeping her in the dark? But since Thorn is technically in charge, I keep my mouth shut. It’s not easy.
“Excuse me.” Iphigenia leans to the side, pushing her way out of the booth.
“Where are you going?” I scoot out, too, ready to follow.
“The restroom.” She looks around at the others but settles her eyes on Thorn. “Is that permitted?” Then without waiting for a response, she leaves.
“Shit, man, this is not going well.” Rhys runs his hands through his hair.
“She seems to be the least guarded with Caspian.” Dominic’s eyes blaze at Thorn. “Can we agree to let him take the lead when she returns?”
Yes, please. Let me rescue us from this idiocy.
Rhys inclines his head. “I think that’s a great idea. I vote yes.”
Thorn crosses his massive arms over his massive chest, nostrils flaring. “Fine, but I don’t like it.”
“You want what’s best for her, yes?” I ask.
The men grumble and then shut up and force smiles on their faces at her return.
Eyes trained on me, she slips back into the booth. I keep my face soft and smile hard at her. She offers me a tiny smile in return.
“Iphigenia,” I start. “We need your help.” Best to appeal to her giving nature.
She chews on her lip.
“Why me? Why not another witch? The Edge is full of us.”
It’s a fair question. She’s anything but stupid.
Thorn sighs. “This bit is complicated, and due to the sensitive nature of the situation and our need for confidentiality, we aren’t at liberty to divulge any more information at this time.”
His speech couldn’t be more scripted. I clear my throat. I’m the one who is supposed to be in charge now, remember, guys?
“So what am I supposed to do with this information?” She takes another bite of her cake, leans back, and crosses her arms over her chest.
She’s gone into protection mode and I’m not surprised, with all our pussyfooting around the actual subject matter.
“Trust us?” I throw her my most innocent smile, trying to disarm. “We suspect the rogue vampire will come after you. You’re the only one who can positively identify him.” It’s not an outright lie, just a slight omission.
“And—“ Dominic starts, then stops when both Thorn and Rhys throw him a look. Good to
know I’m not the only one uncomfortable with this bullshit.
“What the hell aren’t you guys telling me?”
“We’re sorry, Iphi, but this is a need-to-know basis,” says Thorn, who is glaring openly at Dominic now.
“What can you talk about then? You know who the vampire is but you can’t tell me. You know why he’s in the Edge but you can’t tell me. You know why he’s interested in me but you can’t tell me. Anything else I’m missing? Or can’t you tell me?” She piles another bite of cake into her mouth and slams the plate down in front of me.
Our eyes lock and hers soften, almost like she’s giving me silent kudos for being the one not treating her like an imbecile.
The rest of the guys avert their gazes, looking down at their plates, each one focusing extra hard on taking a bite and then passing their plates to the right.
I may as well do the same, and I gulp the last of the upside-down chocolate cake that I assume is Iphigenia’s favorite. And I can see why, it’s delicious.
Iphi growls low next to me, then lets out a long sigh and leans back. “Look, I get it. You’re all trying to protect me.”
The woman has the endearing quality of forgiving us for our secrets. Doesn’t hold grudges. I silently add up all of her pluses and realize I’m going to need a third hand soon.
“We’d like to watch you,” says Thorn a minute later.
“Thorn,” I admonish and he shrugs.
“Excuse me?” Her mouth is full of food, so it sounds more like, “Scoozey?”
“What Thorn means is that, in order to keep you safe, one of us would like to follow you when you’re alone outside,” I interject. I give Thorn a warning look, to which he responds by shooting up a middle finger.
“You can’t be sure he’ll approach me again,” she says.
“It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when.”
“Caspian is right,” says Rhys. “He will come after you. We need to keep an eye out.”
“Need to or want to?” Her fingertips twitch around the fork poised in front of her mouth, sugary syrup dripping back onto the plate. “I’m experiencing conflicting emotions about this, guys. I can’t tell if it’s because you care about my safety or are just keen on vanquishing the monster.”
I touch her shoulder. “We all care, Iphigenia, it’s no more than that.”
But Thorn coughs. Really, Thorn? Now? And her eyes move from mine to his.
Nostrils flaring, she says, “Or maybe I’m bait.”
“We would never use an innocent girl to lure a suspected villain. Keeping the peace and protecting the safety of our citizens is our top priority.” The rogue vampire already sees her as bait and maybe my brothers do, too, but not me. I see her as a woman who needs our protection, even more so because she incorrectly believes herself to be invincible.
“What if I don’t agree?” She plops the last of the fritter into her mouth and gulps it down, practically unchewed.
We all exchange looks. “Why wouldn’t you?” asks Thorn.
“For one, because I am not some helpless child. Two, because I like my independence. I already have a helicopter mother. When I’m out of my house, I like to be alone.”
Her mouth is open a moment longer, as if to add something else, but she clamps it shut.
“We hadn’t anticipated you saying no,” Rhys says into the silence.
“Sorry, guys, I don’t want to disappoint. Let’s revisit this later.” She smiles at us, blinking.
“Okay, whatever you need.”
She scoots out of the booth and stands up. “This has been a fun evening.” The emphasis on “fun” sounds anything but. “Have a great night. All of you.” She nods to each of us as Rhys shoots to his feet.
“Wait, I’ll drive you home.”
“No, thanks, I need some alone time.” She holds up her hand. “If I get a say in all of this, I’m choosing not to have anyone trail me ‘for my own safety.’ And I choose to walk home on my own. Unaccompanied.” Before anyone can respond, she turns and leaves.
“Great,” says Dominic. “That did not go well. Why the hell didn’t you guys let me talk? I’m the one with the training. I could have convinced her.”
“No manipulation.” I shove my long hair behind my ears again. I really need to get it cut.
“But if we tell her who the rogue vampire is, she may not help us, even if it’s in her own interest,” says Thorn. “We have to look out for her. There’s a reason that vampire is here and it’s not to make nice.”
Rhys holds a hand up. “Stop it. You guys are the law and I get that. I respect that. But he’s my responsibility. You forget how well I know him. There’s got to be a reason he disappeared without saying anything to me. He’s never been evil. There’s no way he’s acting on his own free will.”
“Are you saying you don’t want him taken in?” Thorn leaps up, chest rising, his full bulk on display.
“I know what will happen if he is. He won’t be given a fair trial. It’ll be worse than a banishment.”
“We have to find out what the hell is going on. And that little girl is our key.”
I stand up, too. Dominic is the only one left in his seat, examining us like we’re a group therapy session gone irretrievably wrong. “She’s not our pawn, Thorn, and she’s not a little girl.”
“You have feelings for her? You don’t even know her.”
“She’s a good person. A young woman with her entire life ahead of her.”
“Which is exactly why she needs our protection,” says Dominic. “You can sit and fight about it but I’m going after her.” He gets up to leave.
I put my hand on his arm. “Look, you all need to calm down and take a few breaths.” I look each one of them in the eye, let them see my resolve. “I’ll go. I’ll keep her safe. Okay?”
The men grumble but they sit back down.
Chapter Eight
Iphigenia
What I didn’t tell the men was that I really just needed a break from feeling everyone’s feelings all the time. Thus, with a confusing mixture of anger, annoyance, and gratitude, I walk through the well-lit center of town. Our town actually has three downtown areas. There’s Plum Street, which is where most of the Edgers do their shopping and hang out. There’s the town center, where the municipal buildings are gathered. And then there’s the boardwalk, of course. Where the tourists gather to gawk at the Signum, even though they can’t tell us apart at a glance. That doesn’t stop them from making up stories, though, no matter how ignorant or hurtful. They’ll go back to their human towns and brag, “I saw vampires, shifters, werewolves, and witches.” Oh, my. Though if I weren’t a Signum, perhaps I’d feel the same way.
The boardwalk is always lit up at night, even though only a few restaurants like Confections are open. Out-of-towners like to window-shop their way down to the pier and then walk along the boardwalk before they go dancing or drinking. The thoughts and feelings of so many happy tourists usually blur into a cheerful white noise for me, but tonight I can’t find my center. I’m too annoyed.
So why am I annoyed with the guys’ proposal? It’s true that I’m so over being watched by Mother. I can barely tolerate it when I’m home, so the thought of being beholden to yet more babysitters while I’m out and about rubs me raw. I only stay at Mom’s because everyone else has left; otherwise, I’d have moved out as well. I have the finances to do it. But I don’t want to hurt her like my sisters have. Like my father did.
I leave the brightly lit downtown area behind me and continue along the highway, staring out at the dark ocean. Tonight the moon is a waning crescent, lending darkness and shadows to the already blackened night. I don’t even bother to take out my self-defense spray or whistle, so insistent am I that I can take care of myself. I’ve walked these streets alone, at night, for years with no problems. Even when I was as young as twelve.
I sigh. Now is not the time to let my injured pride injure me in truth. Turning up the side street leading to my hou
se, I rummage in my purse for the spray and noisemaker, but only because the shifter brothers have me a little on edge. Something rustles nearby, and then I’m lying flat on the ground, on my back, the wind knocked out of me, my purse and weapons scattered. The vampire from the night before is straddling me, his putrid breath drowning my senses. Yikes, my amulet didn’t work?
He leans closer, sniffing at me, and his eyes snap shut for a moment. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he hisses, making no move to bite.
He’s right. I’m not afraid. I know he won’t hurt me. He does nothing to hide his emotions; they’re laid out for all who can feel them. Even though I’m not exactly on top of the situation here, I sense that he’s only looking for conversation. Sadness and remorse stream off of him. “Because I’m a witch.”
“Witch,” he hisses, “yes. But what kind of witch?”
I’m tempted to respond with, “Why, Glenda the Good Witch, of course,” but I refrain. This is no time for jokes. “Just a regular one.”
“No. Oh, no. He wouldn’t want regular.”
He? Who the hell is he talking about, and really, why aren’t I terrified? Everything about him is terrifying, especially the way he looks, those horrific scars zigzagging across his face. Without them, he might have been handsome. Once. In a classical Renaissance kind of way . . .
“So pretty,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Maybe that’s why . . .” He trails off, creasing his brows and cocking his head. He sniffs the air like a wild animal, all focused intensity. A howl breaks the wind, sending the vampire scurrying backward, and I scramble to my feet. Out of the darkness, a stray dog prowls between us, facing the vampire. The dog growls low in its throat, showing large, pointed teeth, and gnashes them at the vamp, who turns to flee. My defense spray lies just out of reach, on the ground with my purse. Holding my hands up, I take a step backward as the dog whirls around to face me.
Not a dog. A coyote. Shit.
He . . . Caspian whimpers and runs off. It was Caspian. I don’t know how exactly, but I know it was him. He followed me anyway? Even after I asked him not to?
