by A. C. Mason
“No, why?” She closed the door.
Peach and Ivory soap tangled in the air. “Unless you always wear an evening gown around the house, I’d think you were heading out.” With whom, was the question.
She nodded. “Peter and Meg are taking me to the orchestra. It’s the only way I can get the two of them off my case for staying in all the time.”
Good. Better he go then, before her big brother showed. “Classic pop. I’m not a fan.” Disposing of another partner of hers might arouse suspicions. Her husband had snooped too much. “You look very beautiful.”
Her gaze darted away. Still too soon for his open compliments.
A lone plate at the table held food with crisscrossed utensils. At least she made the effort. He ate at his desk.
“Thank you.” Her heeled footsteps tapped the hardwood as she walked toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
Coming home to her would be pleasant, especially after a shitty day like today. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me.”
“Oh, do you need to go?” she asked, stopping to turn to him. “Meg and Peter won’t be here for a while.” Was that a hint of loneliness in her voice?
The tardiness of his weekly visit along with brushing off the offer of a drink had given her the wrong impression. “Not yet. A glass of water would be great.” He followed her into the kitchen and leaned back on the counter. Bottles of prescription medication next to the sink contained big, colored pills. Over the past few months the amount of bottles grew weekly. What were this week’s additions?
She filled a glass with water and held it toward him.
A hand over hers, he leaned in. Leera stepped back, rested her elbows on the counter behind her, breasts pressed forward. Through the thin material, the peaks of her breasts were visible. Was she aroused or cold? The outline of her hip bones showed. He reached for the prescriptions. Effexor XR, Valium and Prozac.
“Are you sick?” Heat from her drew his body closer, her hip bones pressed into him.
With widening eyes, she shook her head. “Depression, anxiety, sleeplessness, the list goes on. So far nothing’s worked.”
As he suspected, recovery from Jean’s passing crawled along. “If you need someone to talk to about anything, I’m only ten digits away, or one, if you program me into speed dial.” Chemicals wouldn’t mend her broken heart, just as his had never recovered from the loss of her. He cupped her face in his hand.
She leaned into his caress. “I appreciate the offer, Rowley, really I do. I’m just not ready to talk about him.” Her lips parted.
How he wanted to kiss her, take her. Stiff need pressed to his pants.
Her once-lush body had withered. “You’ve lost more weight.” He brushed a curl from her face.
She shifted her feet, which forced him to step back. She stood upright and crossed her arms.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious. I’m concerned.” The house was meticulously immaculate. Nearly unlived in. Did she spend her nights shining the shine?
“I know. I exercise to clear my mind. The meds weaken my appetite. The doctor is monitoring me closely.”
So was he. Best for him to leave the subject alone. “Any suggestions on a birthday gift? It’s less than a month away.”
“You don’t need help coming up with great gifts. I was hoping I could skip this one.” She brushed his forearm with warm fingers then stepped back. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I enjoy your touch.” How would he break through the walls she’d built up around her? “I should get going. I hope you have fun tonight.” He set the glass on the counter.
“Thanks for stopping by.”
“It’s always a pleasure.” If things went his way, it would be even more pleasurable soon.
“Liar.” She smiled.
“I’m serious. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t keep coming.”
She leaned in, arms open.
Hands around her, he scooped her to his chest and whispered, “God, I miss you Lee-lee.”
Stiffening in his arms, she pulled back. “I do appreciate the effort and the company.” The hint of loneliness was present once more.
She’d ignored his comment. His insinuation. The name he’d used when she’d been his, once upon a time. All he wanted was to be the one who filled the void. Nearly everyone she’d known had faded out of her life but him. Demonstrating the depth of his attachment. Despite her withdrawn state, he could weather the storm.
He released her. “I’ll be by in a few.”
“And I’ll be here as always. Good night.”
“Good night.” Maybe he’d been seeing this all wrong. With the snitch gone and a new ally, he’d soon turn the tide in his favor. No more zombies. At least not in America.
Chapter 4
“The President will see you now, Mr. Louchian.” A bright-faced young man stopped a few feet away. His tailored taupe suit draped strangely. Not so much that a human would notice, but either the cut of the fabric was off or one side of the man’s body was minutely higher than the other.
Vaihan stood. Let this be good news. If the Bill was buried in committee again, another long process of revival would start all over. With the instability of the country and the last term of the current president coming to an end, Vaihan would need to begin from scratch with the new president-elect, whoever that would be. Not the kind of news he needed right now.
The long dim corridor stretched before him. Each step held more trepidation than the last. The Oval Office was saturated with uneasy feelings, impressions left behind by others. Many dark times were survived by the decisions made in that very room.
“In here.” The young man opened the door and gestured him in.
She stood and walked toward him, holding out her hand. “Vaihan.” Dark, wavy hair flowed around Kirsten Yamaguchi’s slender face. Rouge coated her lips, accenting their fullness as her mouth quirked to one side. The navy fabric of her tailored dress lay snug on her figure.
There was always that moment, a fraction of a second pause, when he questioned what he should call her, when he remembered her not as the commander-in-chief, but as the vibrant young senator from Hawaii.
“President Yamaguchi.” Vaihan gripped her soft hand.
The lines around her beautiful slanted eyes creased. “It’s Kirsten, same as always.” She shook his hand with a firm grip.
An outgoing, energetic young woman transformed into an assertive yet calm, mature leader. Now and again, he saw glimpses of the person she was, but those were less frequent. Though he’d found her physically attractive when she was younger, the passage of time had aged her into a swan.
“Of course, Kirsten.” Vaihan bowed, hands behind his back. The gesture had become a reflex, as it always eased humans’ tension around him.
“Would you like a drink?” She smiled, stopping by the nook. “Scotch, right?” A mind for details was an asset in her line of work.
He checked that the door was closed and the windows were vacant too. An eerie quietness hummed in the air. There was no such thing as being too cautious when it came to the president’s life.
Four forty-five in the afternoon, earlier than he usually drank, though he wouldn’t refuse her. “I appreciate the offer.”
“Good, as I refuse to drink alone.” She filled two glasses with doubles.
He wondered what this talk was about. “Rough week?” Two violent hate crimes against zombies caught on tape with the police force of jurisdiction standing by, watching the attacks, had fueled further tensions between the undead and the living.
She tossed back the contents of her glass and refilled it. “You might say that.” With a smile, she handed him a glass, took a seat and patted the spot next to her. “I did appreciate your call for calm as the investigation into the two horrific cases got under way.”
Humans didn’t understand that though his kind didn’t die, they felt pain one hundred times greater than they did. Due to a zombi
e’s constant state of renewal, nerve endings never dulled. “Retaliation won’t advance our cause. We must show empathy even when none is afforded to us.”
“Did I ever tell you who you remind me of?” The corners of her eyes softened.
As he sat, he shook his head. A lesson was at hand. She always used relatives to illustrate points.
“My great uncle Jimmy Yamaguchi. The first Japanese American senator. You’ve probably heard me speak of what my family faced during WWII when martial law was enacted in Hawaii? The hatred.”
He nodded.
“Despite all that, Jimmy worked to make a difference. You embody many of his qualities, controlled power and a presence that draws everyone in.” She sipped her drink. “People who contain their power are often revealed to be out of control in one aspect or another. He hid a gambling addiction that eventually ruined him.”
Vaihan lifted the rim of the glass to his lips. The liquid burned a trail down his throat.
“Humans need to see each other’s flaws. Weaknesses. When we don’t, we will dig, poke and prod, until we find some.” She gulped back her Scotch. “We’ve never been this close to the approval of the Bill of Undead Rights. The pressure is going to mount and the temptation for whatever dark side of you exists is only going to escalate. If you don’t think you can handle the pressure, tell me now, and I’ll pull in Isay or Lev while you take a leave of absence.”
At least she cut to the chase. He liked that about her. “Have I conducted myself in a way that has given you reason for concern?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
What could he have done? “I have?”
“Yes, unless you are castrated. And, let me tell you that from the feel I copped and your physical reaction, I know that isn’t the case.”
When his day had started, he could not have imagined being in the Oval Office with the president, speaking about his erection the night she’d propositioned him over a decade ago. He had been a gentleman. “I don’t believe I’m following the conversation.”
“You have no love slash sex life to speak of. It’s an issue. People need to see something or they assume the worst. You’re an attractive male of your kind and yet in the years since the undead came out, you haven’t been linked to anyone romantically, undead or human. Are you frequenting hookers?”
As he sipped his drink, the smoky flavor washed over his tongue. The working girls willing to see his kind were not his type. Nor was he attracted to undead females. Human women didn’t make viable companions. Too many risk factors. Was that why the Homeland Security assignment appealed to him? A chance to be with a female probably not yet ready for intimacy would eliminate many of the barriers. He worried about women’s safety and the possibility of him hurting them–her, Leera.
He shook his head.
The curtains could be pushed further open to give him a better view of the area outside. He checked the door, which remained shut.
“Good.” She nodded. “Is it men? I mean, are you into men. No one blinks an eye at such things anymore.”
Where was this conversation going? “Not inherently.” His physical response to her stimulation should have told her as much.
“That would have explained the night you brought me back to my room some years back. I practically threw myself at you.” She met his gaze.
Nothing could explain his actions in terms humans would understand. “You’d consumed alcohol. It would have been untoward of me to act on your advances.” There was no hiding his interest in her physically and mentally but an affair with him would have ruined her and everything she was to become.
“Untoward...now there is a way of putting it.” A nervous laugh escaped her. “Maybe you are into the really young ones?”
“Absolutely not.” He jumped to his feet. The idea unnerved him. “I can’t believe you’d even consider such a thing of me. I’d never.”
“I didn’t, I’m just tossing out speculations that have come up.” She crossed her arms.
Could people have thought such nonsense of him?
“I can’t have some strange sex, drug, bondage or other type of scandal from you right now. This Bill is my legacy. If you can’t handle the heat, I’m giving you the chance to get out of the kitchen. We need to be squeaky clean over the next few months.” She rose.
The last thing he wanted was to derail the Bill. “Squeaky clean.”
“We are going to make history.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. Humans needed contact to deepen bonds. He preferred distance.
As long as he could keep this new case with the widow out of the way, they would usher in a new era. How much trouble could the widow be? For all he knew, she wouldn’t even be interested and he could be on his merry little way.
“I’m going to press the Pacific Northwest state senators for support, given I’m from out West. You work on New England state senators, as you’ve been making progress with the good old boys club.” She brushed back her long, wavy hair, exposing her neck. The light golden-beige hue to her flawless skin forced him to step back. He swallowed building hunger.
The strategy worked for him. “I’ll keep on them.” His comfort level around the West Coast easy going surfer types was minimal. As hard as that might be to believe, it was factual. Not that he enjoyed lamenting about the good old days much more.
“Perfect. I’ll get my secretary to email you with a date for us to meet again and compare notes.” She turned from him.
He shifted away. “Thank you, Kirsten, for championing the Bill.” He set the barely touched Scotch glass down on the nook.
“Don’t thank me just yet. If I live to see the Bill passed, I will accept your gratitude then.” A heavy breath escaped her. “I’m confident you can find your way out?”
The threats on her life from the religious right wing grew as the countdown to the signing of the Bill approached. Why one human wanted to kill another was beyond him. They had such short life spans.
Maybe the widow could serve them both. If he appeared to be dating, that would settle his public image.
Chapter 5
Music filled the grand room of the performing arts center, washing over Leera like a wave over the shore. Leera opened her eyes. Soft beige lights blanketed the dim space.
The hall went silent, and the audience rose with thunderous applause.
Meg and Peter smiled as she stood and clapped too.
“I’m thirsty.” Meg pointed to the refreshment area outside the double doors, then grabbed Leera’s hand.
One more place she could feel awkward with nothing to say.
“I’m so happy you came tonight. Peter is worried about you.” Meg wrapped her arm around Leera and squeezed.
If only her brother didn’t worry, she wouldn’t be in this mess with Homeland Security to keep him out of Guantanamo Bay.
A talk about her behavior was sure to follow. Meg couldn’t help but lecture her endlessly about how hard everything she did was on Peter. Whether she responded and if she said nothing, the same was true. Peter’s recklessness with helping Rowley was now her biggest problem.
“It feels great to be out.” She said what was needed to avoid further reprimand.
She and Meg waited in line at the juice bar. Though she loved her sister in-law, the woman couldn’t spend a moment in her own company or keep her mouth shut. Someone had to be with her everywhere she went. That kind of behavior couldn’t possibly be healthy.
Overhead hung flags from countries all over the world, which reminded her of the first time her father brought the family to the orchestra and the red dress her mother had insisted she wear. Peter got sick. Father was furious, and made sure Peter couldn’t sit for days.
Peter weaved through the crowd, then he stopped to talk to a tall bald man in a long, black, buttoned-up jacket and tailored matching pants. A round collar hugged the man’s pale, blue-toned skin. An Ancient. Not a lawyer. Growing up in a house filled with them, she could spot them on sight. Peter smiled then laughe
d and pointed toward them.
A striking gaze met hers. Vaihan Louchian.
Her heart pounded. His eyes were white with black pupils, and he had no irises. Inside, her stomach quivered, from fear or the way he examined her, she couldn’t be sure. God, it was happening. So far, Barton was right about Vaihan being there.
Meg lit up as she turned to Peter and the approaching male. “Vaihan, what a pleasant surprise, running into you here.”
“Megan, your radiance only increases every time I see you. I’m at a loss as to how this is even possible.” Hands clasped behind his back, he bowed.
“Motherhood agrees with me.” Meg’s cheeks grew pink.
Peter took her hand. “Yes, it does.”
The pit in her stomach tensed. Her hand shook.
The pointed dot of his pupils grew larger.
“Let me introduce Peter’s baby sister, Leera,” Meg said.
That was Leera’s cue to force a smile to her lips. “Hello.” She’d done this a million times for her father. It was just like old times. But now she was doing it for Peter.
The broad frame imposed over her as he stepped closer. A strange tremor moved through her core as uneasiness gripped her. Heat flushed her chest and up her neck, forcing her to step back.
“Good evening, I’m Vaihan Louchian.” He nodded his perfectly shaped head. Not a bump or an odd contour. “I can finally put a face to a young woman I’ve heard such great things about from Peter. I’m honored, Ms. Waltz.”
What had Peter said to this creature about her?
“Thank you.” If she ended the conversation, she could excuse herself to the restroom and hide. She couldn’t do this. Yet she had to.
“The baby is moving.” Meg’s eyes widened.
Peter placed his hand on her abdomen and she guided him to the side.
With a deep swallow, Leera moved further back. She wanted to run, far and fast. Hide. But where could she go?
