But one aspect of his plan was already ruined.
The moment he’d heard the crunch of leaves as the first demon approached, his body readied for battle. His stance shifted, his posture straightened, he felt the blood he’d drank earlier infuse every cell of his being. Even knowing she’d left, that she hadn’t even tried to find him in the catacombs, to discover what had befallen him, his first instinct was to protect her.
She didn’t need his protection. Her newfound strength and agility would serve his plan well. He had been unable in the short time it’d taken her to confront him, though, to take on his guise of frailty. The loss of his sight still affected his abilities, but he’d fully recovered from the two hundred years of near starvation Elsbithy had inflicted. Too bad he wouldn’t get the time to return the favor.
“Careful of the shoes!” They were soft Italian leather and hard as it was to find a cobbler who could craft them, very expensive.
Penelope merely snorted and dropped the last of the demons at his feet. “You brought them, you help dump the bodies.”
“If you think I am allowing such beasts to contaminate my auto, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Auto? Who the hell let you drive?”
“I have a driver. A nice chap, little daft, but all the safer for me.”
“Well good on you.” She enunciated each word. In his mind’s eye, she put her hands on her hips and canted toward him as she jutted out her chin. Her breath wafted against his lips, and he’d wager half his fortune she was doing exactly that. “But I can shift. So that’s how we’ll be traveling.”
If he could breathe, he’d gulp. “Shift? I’d rather prefer not.” He hated shifting. Hated the displacement, not knowing if all his parts would reassemble in whatever dank hole they landed. “Are you even strong enough to shift both of us and these…” His lip curled as his hand flailed toward the demons.
By her voice, he knew she smiled. “Yeppers. I’ve been eating my spinach.”
“What in the names of the gods does spinach have to do with any of it?”
Rustling around, he thought she said something about catching a television program every once a century, but he couldn’t be sure. Didn’t rather care, either, when she slapped disgusting wet goo against his hand. His fingers instinctively splayed apart to drop what had to be demon parts, but she closed his fingers around it before doing the same to his other hand.
Despite his revulsion, his body reacted to her skin against his. He wanted closer to her heat. Not that her hands were very warm just then, but still warmer than him, and he wanted to wrap around her and soak in it.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper, the successive release of each metal tooth, jangled his nerves further. Something heavy hit the ground and then she moved, latches opening and clicking shut, before the pale shift of her hair appeared in front of him. Very close in front of him. Her heat seeped through his clothes as she came right up against him.
“Penelope?”
“Who else?” Her hips bumped into his as she jostled the straps of her backpack. “Now hold still. I’d hate to drop you somewhere along the line.”
Circling her arms under his, she stepped one foot between his, and brought her body flush to his, from chests to knees. As the world started to spin, he squeezed his eyes shut against the vertigo. It spun faster, and he felt his skin start to dissipate. It caused no pain, but rather a burning, itching sensation that would unnerve anyone. In spite of it, he felt his body stir at her proximity, as he knew it would. The sooner they reached his villa, the sooner he could put the naked portion of his plan into effect.
As more and more of his body spun apart and he felt the downward pull, he crossed his arms around her, unable to hold on with his hands otherwise full. Burying his face against her neck, he scented her skin, felt the softness of it and her hair, and gave over. He brushed his lips over the spot where her shoulder met her neck, where he knew she was so sensitive, and let his body go slack as unconsciousness swamped him.
The sudden stop jarred his insides upward. Penelope released him quickly, feeling none of the disorientation non-shifters felt at reentry. He raised a hand to his spinning head, hoping to steady himself, but something slimy slapped his face and he remembered what he held.
“Hup, hup, old boy, no time to waste.” Leaves crunched under her boots, the body she dragged behind her making slurping sounds as it bounced over branches and rocks.
“In a rush, now, are we? Have someplace important to be?” He picked his way after her carefully, feeling ridiculous to have demon heads hanging from his outstretched arms as he tried to keep his balance.
He heard a few sharp snaps, but before he could ask what she did, he heard the cutting of grass and smelled the earth as she cut it open. She must have one of those collapsible shovels humans used while camping. Or for burying bodies.
“Where are we?” The air was cold, clean, and thin.
“Canadian Rockies. Village is long gone now, but there’re a few graves left. Are you going to get the other bodies or what?”
Galen hauled the second body to the ditch and dropped it with a wet thud. The smell was never going to come out of his suit. Though, three more of the demons hunting him were dead, so it’d be best not to fuss.
“Oh. Crap.”
That was the last thing he wanted to hear from Penelope. By her warm reception at the cemetery, he wouldn’t be hearing what he desired anytime soon. He’d thought her in the grave he’d stood over. Her assembly over another one surprised him. Her powers had grown since he’d seen her last. Nevertheless, he’d felt her. Knew he’d finally found the right place a mile from it.
Over two millennia and she’d been the only one to ever touch his heart. As much as he had one. She was also the only one to so thoroughly peeve him.
She lifted her head, just barely visible above the hole she’d dug, and while he couldn’t be sure, imagined she scrunched up her face.
“I’m terribly sure I don’t wish to know, but…” he prompted.
“There’s already a body here.”
If he could heave a sigh, he would. “Meaning?”
“We need a new plan.”
Clearing his throat, Galen tugged hard on the ends of his temper. “We can’t just bury them all together?” They had to reach his villa tonight. Preferably with enough time for him to start regaining her good graces.
“No. This was a human.” She pulled herself out of the hole and began to push the dirt back in.
“I fail to see a problem. Dead’s dead, let’s just finish this and carry on.”
She looked up toward the sky and heaved the deep, exasperated sigh he hadn’t. “Dead is not just dead. That is human dead”—she pointed to the hole—“and these”—she kicked a corpse at his feet—“are douche bag demon dead. If you put them together, the demons can regenerate with the human bones. Messy, but effective. Give me a minute, I’ll think of Plan B.”
By the time they were executing Plan C, Galen had shifted through enough graves to last him another millennium. He needed to bathe and find a new suit. He waited as Penelope ensured the site was sufficient, unwilling to haul the decomposing creatures to yet another used grave.
He did not often lament the loss of his sight. Not being able to see more of her than a blur of movement or a shift of color made its loss painfully sharp. On the back of his eyelids, he could conjure her image. The vivid green of her eyes. The dimple on the left of her mouth when she smiled.
She’d smiled at him a lot in a different era. Her features relaxed, her body warm and pleasure soaked against his. The long tendrils of her hair spread across his pillows.
She thought he couldn’t hear it, but if her grumbling was any indication, she’d now take her pleasure in severing his head from his neck.
“Good to go,” she said from behind him.
He’d heard her coming, but startled anyway, biting back the smirk as she caught his arm to keep him from falling off the rock. “Hasn’t anyone tol
d you not to sneak up on a blind man?” he snapped, taking his arm back and flattening out his sleeve.
She rolled her eyes. He didn’t have to see it to know. “I didn’t think I could sneak up on you, with your other super senses and all.”
She couldn’t, but it wouldn’t do for her to know that. “We won’t be needing a Plan D, then?”
“There is no Plan D. After C, there’s only Plan Fuck It, where we leave the bodies for the vultures and go have margaritas.”
“For the future, may I suggest you make that Plan A?”
Penelope didn’t think much about the future. She took it from enough people that making plans for her own seemed…insensitive somehow. Plus, unlike Galen, she was bad at plans. “If Elsbithy has his way, there won’t be a future for making plans. Now, what part of the catacombs should we shift into?”
He stood, brushed his hands over his very fine ass, and adjusted his sunglasses. Her heart sank heavy in her chest. She wanted eye contact. Something about all of this just felt…wrong, off somehow. If only she could read his intentions, she may be able to figure out what.
The wind picked up. The desert would be hot after the sunrise, but right now, high in the mountains, the air was frigid against her bare arms, and she shivered.
Galen reached a hand toward her, but missed her by several inches. Slowly, he sought her out, until she met him halfway with a shift of her weight. His hand was as cold as the air and her breath caught.
“I can hear your teeth chatter,” he murmured as he drew her into his arms. “Why aren’t you wearing sleeves?”
“I took my jacket off. It was covered in demon goo.”
“Don’t you have another in that pack of yours?”
“No, just a sweatshirt. I was warm while we were shifting and burying.”
The friction of his arms and sleeves against her provided a bit of warmth, but her jaw hurt from shaking so hard. “Tell me where in the catacombs we’re going, so we can get out of here.”
“We’re not going to the catacombs tonight.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not the full moon. Elsbithy performs a ritual that can only take place when the moon reaches complete fullness at exactly midnight. It’s the only time when he is vulnerable enough to kill. That doesn’t happen until the night after next. So we have time to prepare.”
Sagging against him, she pressed her forehead into the hard muscles of his shoulder. If she was the crying sort, she would. Another forty-eight hours with Galen was too much. But it would be light soon. He had to sleep.
Finally, she raised her head. “Where do you want to go?”
Chapter Three
A warm breeze and the scent of salt water greeted their arrival. The crypt was clean, fresh flowers and small candles in deep votives creating a shrine in the center of the room. The writing carved into the walls was Latin. She traced her fingers over the letters, pleased by the craftsmanship.
“Anyone you know?” she asked, moving to the other side of the shrine, glad to put some space between them. Her nerves were frazzled from the proximity required for shifting two people. Her skin tingled, some places stronger than others, like the sensitive spot behind her ear, where she swore she felt his lips press right before they dissipated.
“Not directly,” he answered, lifting the lid of a small stone coffin with ease. A child? “Distant descendents. Of my brothers.”
“Oh.” She’d never thought of him as being human once. Having family. “Do you keep track of them?”
His smile was wistful, sad. He unzipped a leather pouch, removed a ring of several keys, and replaced the stone. “Others do that. I merely manage the funds that provide for them. They know nothing of me. I know very little more of them. As it should be.”
She didn’t remember ever being a child, having family. It seemed one day she just appeared over a grave. Nevertheless, caring for generations of relatives yet having no contact seemed a lonely existence. It unnerved her, how she softened toward him with the knowledge.
He moved easily around the space, not bumping against anything as he moved through a narrow passageway. She followed him into a hall, around a sharp bend, and saw heavy iron grating. Beyond that, waves crashed against the shoreline, their tips glittering in the glow of the moon hanging heavy and low.
The grate swung easily after he unlocked it, and they stepped onto a narrow ledge on the side of the ragged coastline. Steep stairs led up through scrub. She had to hold onto him as she moved aside so he could close and lock the door. The fall into the ocean below wouldn’t kill her, not even the jagged rocks, but she was weakened from so many shifts and injuries would take longer to heal.
“How do they bring the bodies down here?” she asked. It was just something to say, an attempt to steer them back to neutral ground.
His hair blew across his face, strands sticking to the scruff on his jaw. His lip hitched up as he glanced at her before pocketing the keys and taking her hand to lead her up the stairs.
“There is another entrance from the main house.” He nodded toward a huge white structure above them. “This is mostly for ventilation, or if the passageways should cave.”
“Or for sneaky vampires?”
His laugh was genuine, rolling over her like the breeze off the Mediterranean, and bringing as much warmth.
“Primarily for sneaky vampires.” At the top of the stairs, small villas spread over the hills. Their crisp white paint reflected the moonlight.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered, raising a hand to her throat.
He moved closer, brushing his knuckle over her cheekbone. “You are beautiful, Penelope. Come, my home is some walk away.”
The shops were closed along the quaint streets in the small marketplace they walked through. Gaiety floated out from two or three bars, brightly colored lights spilling across the cobblestones.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, pulling him to a stop outside a bakery. Several loaves of crusty bread still sat in baskets in the window. Pressing her nose to the door, she could smell the yeast and flour and her stomach growled.
“No cause to break in. I’ve lived here long enough to have a housekeeper to stock the kitchen when I ask.”
She snorted. “Stop reading my mind.”
“I’ve no need to read your mind.” His lips were firm but soft as he pressed them to the back of her hand. Electricity arced through her as it had in the cemetery, and made her glad his glasses covered his eyes. Even blinded, she feared the connection she’d always felt when their eyes met. “I know your appetites very well. Five centuries is unlikely to change them much.”
She snapped her hand back to her side. “Five centuries has changed a lot.”
“Perhaps.” Shrugging, he turned his back to her and began to walk. “Perhaps not.”
He may have laughed then, but she was growling too loudly to know for sure. For the next several blocks, she seethed at him, even as she practically drooled over the sight of all that male beauty strolling in front of her. They passed a small group of young women heading home after a night out, and despite him being dirty and smelly, every one of them checked him out.
Possessiveness reared its head as he tilted his chin to them, but she quickly pasted a smile on her face, hoping she’d pass them without remark. She’d learned to blend, be forgettable, especially to humans. Her odds of survival were better that way.
The smashing of glass and a female shout quickly cut off by a loud thunk and an angry male voice made both her and Galen stop short. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted the girls were already across the street and hadn’t heard. When she turned back, Galen raised an eyebrow. She whispered, “They’re gone.”
“Good.” His voice was quiet, but full of menace. “Looks like I’m having dinner out tonight after all.”
Before she could stop him, he was gone, slipping through a side gate and up the stairs into the flat where the noise abruptly stopped. Penelope’s heart pounded as her eyes grew
wide, slowly stepping backward until she stood in the middle of the narrow street. Still, she couldn’t see into the flat, but she could hear the opening and closing of shutters on the other side. Straining her ears, moments later she heard it. A body splashing into the sea below the cliff the building was perched upon.
He reappeared beside her just as quickly as he’d left, and she jumped, one hand on her throat. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
He laughed, swiping at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then sliding his hands into his pockets. “Now how could I do that, my dear? You knew I’d only be gone a moment.”
“Enjoy your dinner?” she asked sardonically.
“Aww, don’t tell me you feel sorry for him? His wife certainly doesn’t lament his unfortunate drunken fall into the sea.”
Of that, Penelope was sure. “Not at all. But if you don’t mind, I’m hungry too.”
“Apologies for my manners. Did you wish to share?”
“Not what you had.”
Galen’s villa sat on the edge of an ocean cliff, some ways past the town. Secluded, quiet, and as he’d said, well stocked. Penelope pushed aside the carafes of blood and pulled a platter of fish and fresh vegetables from the refrigerator. He’d gone to clean up and burn his clothing, offering to let her go first, but she’d declined, needing to eat first.
She settled easily into the plush cushions on the built-in stone benches on the patio. Beyond the railing, she could see nothing but open ocean. This far from any graves, she was more solid than she’d been in a very long time. For once, the lack of an easy escape didn’t bother her. Instead of tingling in her feet, she only felt the tickle of air.
The fresh churned butter melted over her tongue as she bit into a thick slice of bread. That too, seemed to melt, and she let her eyes drift shut, happy to enjoy the meal.
“You still hum when you like the taste of something.”
His voice jolted her upright, eyes wide. She coughed, almost choking on her first swallow. He sat on the other side of the table, relaxed, a carafe of blood by his elbow. He raised a wineglass to his lips, the thick liquid coating the inside of the glass as he drank.
Grave Shifter: Shades of Black (Shades of Black: Grave Distinction Series) Page 2
