Juliette pulled her pen out of its cap and stabbed it back in. "Well, I try not to ramble. My turn to ask a question. What are your thoughts about magical powers?"
"Cop-outs. The abilities of characters in all of these books always makes things far too easy for them. The uncanny convenience shouldn't be overlooked. Need someone who can see the future to give everyone time to prepare for something? Write it in. Read minds? That one usually goes to the main protagonist. Abusing gifts helps get authors around tricky plot points. The one ability you don't hear about much is vampires changing into animals, except for bats. Most bats eat fruit or small bugs, not humans or mammals."
"Vampires are supposed to be able to turn into different animals? Why is this forgotten?"
"Probably too close to werewolf lore. It also depends on what you're reading."
Juliette raised her fists beside her head and lifted two fingers on each. “It would be kind of funny to have a vampire turn into wolf. Would that make a werepire?"
"Now that’s a terrifying thought, but werewolves and wolves aren't the same thing." Tristan’s fingers darted out and lightly stroked her exposed underarm.
The tickle thrilled Juliette. She squealed and lashed out to hold his hand. "Well, we can have fun with werewolves and vampires because they don't exist, but I wish they did."
Tristan reluctantly pulled his hand free and sat on the end of her bed with a longing sigh. "Hey, I hate to change the topic, but what are we going to do when Nate's back? How will we see each other outside of class?"
Juliette blinked hard. "I'll figure something out. Let's just finish this assignment and deal with that later. So what about silver bullets and daggers and other ways to kill them?”
* * *
"Gabrielle, may I talk to you for a minute?"
Gabrielle glanced up from the ledger lying on her desk in her small home office. "Sure, Tristan. Come on in. What’s on your mind?"
Tristan closed the door and sat in the available chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "How I can keep my friendship with Juliette without just falling head over heels in love with her? She's too stuck on Nate to leave him and I'm getting hooked on her."
"You do not think she's in any risk of returning your feelings to you?"
"No. She's devoted to a fault to a jerk not worthy of being in her presence."
Gabrielle folded her hands neatly in front of her and took a deep breath. "Well, you can't do anything about her and Nate right now. She has to make the move. Your dilemma is that you want her to get away from him, but not quite run to you. Am I close?"
"Spot on."
"The heart will want what it wants, Tristan. All either of you can control is how you react. She may already have moved on emotionally, but has chosen to stay with him. You cannot stop your emotions as long as you're spending time with her. If you back away now, she'll recede into Nate's shadow. Are you willing to sacrifice your heart to keep her in the light until she’s strong enough to thrive on her own, if she chooses that path?"
Tristan took several minutes to try sorting his thoughts, one discordant mass of non-words all coming to the same conclusion. "I will do that if I need to, but what if she does move away from him? Unless I’m imagining, there’s been a spark, though nothing can work with us. It's not fair to have her move often so we could be together, and I couldn't bear having to say farewell when the Grim Reaper pays her a visit."
With admirable calmness, Gabrielle pulled a new deck of cards out of a drawer and shuffled. "Was it fair that I had to say good-bye to both of my young children? My own precious daughter and son? If you wait for life to hand out fairness points before you’re willing to start experiencing what it offers, then you never will live. Sometimes what’s fair doesn’t win. Sometimes what is unfair does.” She flipped the top one, revealing the queen of diamonds, then tossed one to Tristan. “Ace high.”
Tristan turned his card over to reveal a losing jack of spades.
“You must either make do with what you were dealt, or discard and wait for a new chance. That’s about as fair as life gets. Deal with it, or take a chance on change."
"How should I do that?" Tristan slid his card back to her.
Gabrielle dealt him another. "I cannot tell you, Tristan. You will figure out on your own what is right."
Tristan lifted the new one. "Ace of hearts. Figures.”
His mentor smiled and shook her head.
“All right. Well, thanks, Gab.” Myriad thoughts crowded his head. “I'm going for a drive to think over a few things."
Gabrielle rose from her seat and stood in front of him. Without looking at the deck, she slipped the top card into his shirt pocket and patted it. "Sometimes you’ll think you’ve won the game. Then you learn that sometimes winning isn’t getting the highest card. What might be a loss to all others could be your personal winner that will bring you happiness. Fairness is an abstract concept. It’s what you make of it. Stick your high-ace in your back pocket and go for your drive."
* * *
Tristan sped up the Pacific Coast Highway, hoping Emma wouldn’t mind that he’d borrowed her convertible Mercedes. If he kept up his extreme pace, he'd reach San Francisco and still be home by sun rise. Though the night’s air chilled him, he kept car’s top down and let the the wind blow violently through his hair. The salty ocean air filled his lungs. Tristan felt like he was flying, all his worries temporarily behind him unable to catch up. As long as his foot was on the gas, he was free from his concerns and anything was possible.
Lights from the city became visible, and he stepped harder on the pedal, racing against nothing to his final destination. Taking his chances of a ticket, he ignored the signs banning overnight parking and left the car in the Ocean Beach lot. Tristan tossed his shoes and socks in the passenger seat, rolled up his slacks, and got out.
The sand on the stairs to the beach tickled his feet. Soon the icy sea water covered them instead. Tristan walked along the waterline, occasionally stopping to pick up a shell and stick it in his pocket. The nearly full moon illuminated the world and the stars dotted patterns in the sky, but couldn’t touch his thoughts that sank into an emotional quagmire.
Allowing her further into his life was foolish, but keeping her out didn’t feel right either. To let her enter risked his family’s safety. Keeping her out risked hers. What if she wouldn’t even want in? What if she did, but fled upon learning the truth? She had shown compassion for vampires, but would she feel the same if she knew the kind of monster he was? The risks numbered too high for his comfort, and he decided he would help her by just being her friend and steering her to someone who could love her the way she deserved.
Far down the beach, Tristan turned around to return to the car. The card in his back pocket had won the draw. What did Gabrielle mean by sometimes the high card doesn’t win? He’d been dealt the most desired hand, the one carrying no new risks, like the life he already had built. Juliette at arm’s length, near enough to touch, not too close to risk his family. He could travel to new locations and experience different cultures. His chateau was always ready. He enjoyed education for the sake of learning. His financial situation was enviable. If he wanted, his physical needs were easy to take care of. The life he lived was carefree, his own personal Ace of Spades. Who would be fool enough to toss back a winner and hope for better? What more did he want?
Holding the ace card didn’t feel right. The paper weighed his hand down. He flicked it into the ocean. What had Gabrielle meant when she’d said that winning wasn’t always the high card and that sometimes the losing one won?
Tristan’s brow furrowed. He still had the other card she’d given him in his shirt pocket. His heart pounded hard beneath it, as if ordering him to remove it. Obeying the order he grabbed the card and stared. In any game for money it would have lost. Understanding set in. His eyed widened. “Gabrielle, how the hell did you know what the next card was?”
The stars overheard began to disappear with the earliest morning’s light before
he finally made himself look away from what he held. He looked out over the water and licked his lips. “Two of Hearts.”
6. Targets
Juliette stood at her window, tapping her foot until Libby’s car came into view. Nathaniel had ignored her since his return a couple weeks prior. His behavior unsettled her.
The vehicle swerved around a corner. Juliette smiled, picked up a long black case, and went downstairs. "Bye, Nathaniel!" Juliette hollered on her way to outside. He grunted in response, not taking his eyes from his video game.
Daniel Creavy winked at Juliette as she stepped over the threshold. "Your girl's a fine piece of--"
She slammed the door, refusing to listen to the crude remarks.
Libby waited at the curb, as planned. Juliette shoved her case into the back and hurried into the passenger seat. "Daniel is such a creep! He scares me more than Nathaniel sometimes."
"What does he do?"
"His comments about me, and right in front of Nathaniel. He’s too bold."
Libby sighed and pressed the gas. "I still wish you'd leave. Nate’s a jerk. Ditch him and all those rotten friends of his. Come live at my place or get a dorm and stay with me on holidays."
"Thanks, Lib, but no. It's enough you’re helping me see Tristan without Nathaniel knowing."
The car slowed to a stop and Libby turned in the tan leather driver seat. "Do you know why I'm doing it?"
Juliette stared. "Hm?"
"I'm helping you sneak around because I'm hoping some time with a good man like Tristan will show you how it might be if you leave Nate. You shouldn't be forced to sneak like this to visit a friend."
A car behind honked as the red light turned green and held the horn. Libby stuck her hand out the window with a rude gesture. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you!"
"Tristan's a great guy," she continued. "Did I tell you the vet said someone anonymous took care of the bill? I think it was Tristan because we got flowers from him, but I don't want to say anything in case I’m wrong about the tab."
"No, you didn't. That was sweet and sounds like something he would do." Juliette dropped her head against the seat and smiled, eyes closed.
"So why not switch over to Tristan? Dump Nate."
"Yeah, I’d probably be happier in some ways, but I'd feel guilty. I can't leave the guy who gave me a home when I had nowhere else to stay."
Libby rolled her eyes and spoke forcefully. "Well, taking you in doesn’t give him points he can cash in to make you have to stay and put up with him being a jerk. That's wrong. It's all terribly, horribly wrong, Jules."
"We're not talking about this again, Lib. Tristan tries convincing me to leave too. I don't need to be told the same thing from both of you." Juliette crossed her arms and stared out the window without seeing the concrete walls lining the hallway give way to rows of buildings and then trees. She mentally focused on the round shape of one of her bedposts to distract herself from thinking about what Nathaniel would do if he discovered where she spent the day.
Not another word passed between them until they'd arrived in Pasadena and Libby had parked her car. Libby stepped out while Juliette reached in the back seat.
"Hi, Tristan! Got her here safe and sound. Do you do archery too?" Libby called to the driver of another car.
Tristan laughed and slammed a door. "Thanks for doing this, Libby. Um, this'll be my first time."
"Well, Jules is good at this stuff."
Juliette joined them, her bow case slung over her shoulder. "Oh, stop talking me up, Lib. I'm okay, nothing more. Are you sure you don't want to stay?"
Libby glanced back and forth between them. "Yeah. I have a lunch date anyway. Call me when you need to be picked up." She grinned and sauntered to her car.
"Say hi to Alex for me!" Tristan called after Libby and turned to Juliette. "So, you think you can teach me a thing or two?"
"Maybe. We'll do some field archery. It’s a set of 28 targets that get more challenging as they go." She waved at a man behind a counter and led Tristan to the first target on the range.
Tristan kneeled next to Juliette while she her unpack the box and fill the quiver with arrows. "When did you start archery?"
"Oh, back in high school. I used to watch the practices, and the instructor was excellent and so kind. He mentored me and encouraged me to reach for the stars with education. I found out he was a foster kid too and he understood where I was coming from and wanted me to have a chance he didn’t. So he set me up with the gear and got my foster parents to sign permission for me to join the club. That was the first time someone showed me they cared. I wouldn't have been able to do this without him.”
“I’m so sorry about your childhood. No kid should be neglected.”
Juliette shrugged and handed him her bracer. “Here, put this guard on your non-dominant arm. That'll keep you being skinned if the string rubs against you."
"Planing skin away? That gives me a painful mental image."
"Yeah, I got rubbed raw once, which was bad enough. I was lucky nothing peeled off." Juliette pulled the taut string back and let go. "This is a longbow, the most traditional kind, and gives the biggest challenge. No sights, no arrow rest, no frills or anything to help with an edge. Your shooting is all your own skill."
She placed the nock of an arrow on the string, took her stance, pulled back, and carefully aimed. "There's something called the archer's paradox. Because of the way the arrow moves around a bow, if you try aiming straight at the bull’s-eye, you’ll miss. Aim just to the side of what you want to hit." She loosed the arrow, and the tip pierced an inch from the center of the bull's eye.
Tristan nodded. "Not bad. I'd be lucky to get anywhere on the target."
"Try!" She handed him her bow and stood in front of him. "Stand like this."
He accepted it and imitated her stance. "Now what?"
Carefully she lifted his elbow. "Arrow."
He took one and placed the nock on the string.
"Turn it over,” she instructed and pointed. “You see how that one green cock feather is on the side with the bow? That needs to be the other way so it doesn't rub against it. Pull the string back, rest the arrow on your finger, and keep the shaft perpendicular to the ground."
While correcting his stance and the placement of his arms and fingers, Juliette could feel him body relax and move toward her. His skin’s heat awoke a new longing she fought to tame.
Tristan swallowed and sighed. He aimed, staring down the arrow’s shaft, released the string, and closed his eyes.
"Great job! You hit the target!"
Her enthusiasm warmed him, and he checked his shot. "Well, I missed the target, but I guess hitting the paper is better than missing altogether."
"Tristan, it's your first time! I hit the ground when I started. Practice more. That’s all you need to do."
Juliette and Tristan took turns for the remaining targets, Tristan improving slightly by the last target, Juliette consistently shooting near the center of each.
"You're a fantastic teacher, Juliette."
"Thanks, Tristan." Her smile lit up her whole face as she packed her case. "An eager student helps.”
Tristan carried it for her. "Can you stay out a little longer?" He pressed a key and unlocked his car doors.
"Well, Nathaniel thinks I'm out with Libby doing archery and going to a movie after. He won't expect me until at least ten or eleven, so I have some time. Are you thinking of anything in particular?"
Tristan turned the radio on to his favorite classical station. "A little something I like to do. Pachelbel okay with you?"
Juliette settled into her seat and moved her hands as if conducting an orchestra. "Canon's cliché these days, but still one of my favorite songs. It’s uplifting."
The radio's music took the place of conversation the entire drive to Manhattan Beach. Tristan found a parking spot, retrieved a blanket from his trunk, and loaded food from an electric cooler into a picnic basket. "My sister made some fried chicken in case we
stayed out a bit longer," he told Juliette.
“How do you have a fridge back there?”
“Power inverter. Runs off a spare car battery back there.” Provisions procured, he led the way onto the pier.
A smile touched Juliette’s mouth. "I love the colors of the sunset. The world is starting to say goodnight, with the last of the rays clinging to the sky even after the sun disappears down over the horizon. The salty sea air makes me believe everything will renew itself by morning."
The crashing of the surf on the sand replaced the music from the radio and she held her arms up to an invisible partner and began to waltz.
Tristan observed with intrigue until he found a spot at the end of their pier to set down the load he carried. He stretched his hand to her. "Would you do me the honor?"
"Sure," she laughed. "Do you know how?"
Tristan winked and expertly took the lead. He guided her into an elaborate move, for once glad his instructors had always enforced the rule that a strong male partner could guide a novice in almost any dance. He held her closer to him than appropriate for a waltz, enough for the heat of their bodies to mingle between them. In a spin, they bumped into each other.
"Why are you blushing?" he asked.
"Um, I was remembering…when I…"
"Kissed me?"
“I’m sorry.” Juliette giggled and looked away, biting her lip.
Tristan hugged her closer to him and swayed slowly in place. "If certain things were different, I wouldn't have stopped."
For several minutes, they held each other, the pounding waves mingling with their heartbeats serving as their music until Juliette's stomach grumbled.
"Let's eat," he whispered, rubbing her cooling back.
Arm around her waist, Tristan guided her to the side of the aquarium building on the pier, and they sank down beside it. close together. Tristan pulled the blanket over the two of them and then grabbed Gabrielle's fried chicken and covered bowl of potato salad out of the basket. The cocoa was closer to lukewarm than piping hot after a long afternoon in the trunk, but compared to the chilly late evening beach air, the beverage was warm.
Juliette placed a thigh on a napkin and daintily picked the seasoned skin off the meat to eat first. "Your sister makes delicious chicken. I can't cook anything not from a box, from a can, or frozen."
Sacred Blood Page 6
