by Susan Illene
The house phone rang for the fifth time in the last two hours. He’d been ignoring it, but the same number kept popping up on the screen. What if it was Griff calling to harass her? Bartol wanted nothing more than to give that vampire a piece of his mind, and this might be his first opportunity. He couldn’t disregard the phone any longer.
He picked up the handset, taking a moment to figure out how to answer it. “Yes?”
“Who is this?” an older woman asked. “I’m trying to reach my daughter, Cori.”
He tensed. It hadn’t occurred to him that her mother might call. “She is sick and sleeping at the moment, ma’am. Can I have her call you back later?”
“Who are you? And why are you answering my daughter’s phone?” the woman demanded.
And here he’d thought Cori could be difficult, but apparently it was an inherited trait. “I am Bartol—her neighbor. She asked me to look after her while she is sick.”
“Cori stopped letting me fuss over her after she turned seven years old. She doesn’t let anyone look after her when she’s sick.” The woman let out a snort. “You expect me to believe you?”
“I assure you, ma’am, I had very little choice in the matter,” he said, peeking into Cori’s bedroom to make certain she still slept deeply. It hadn’t been easy to compel her. She had a surprisingly strong resistance to having her mind controlled even when it was voluntary, and someone powerful did it.
“If she convinced you to be there, then she had a reason.” The woman’s voice turned speculative. “Are you dating her?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Is she interested in you?” Cori’s mother asked. “Because I’ve been telling her for years to move on from that horrible ex-husband of hers. She needs a good man and to have children again.”
Bartol stilled. “Again?”
The woman sighed. “She didn’t tell you about her daughter?”
“No.”
“That deadbeat, Griff, crashed his truck and killed my grandbaby when she wasn’t quite five years old yet.” Cori’s mom sniffled. “It tore my daughter apart, and she’s never been the same since. That’s why I want her to find someone who can look after her. Are you a good man?”
“I, uh….” He was too busy absorbing the fact that Cori had a daughter. How could she have not mentioned something as important as that? Were those portraits he found in the closet of her little girl? Dozens of the puzzle pieces that made up Cori began to fall into place, and it confounded him.
“Are you there? I hope we’re not losing our connection,” the woman muttered, tapping at the phone.
Bartol rubbed at his temple. “I’m here.”
“So are you a good man?”
“No, I’m not,” he said, and took a deep breath, “but I would never hurt your daughter.”
“You know, the men who think they’re not good enough are usually the best ones.” Cori’s mother took on a wise tone. “Maybe you are the right person for her.”
He sighed. “I assure you that your daughter deserves better than me, ma’am.”
“Stop saying ma’am. My name is Joy. From now on, that is what you will call me, or I’ll take the next flight to Fairbanks and shoot you. Do you understand?”
Bartol noted a bit of Cori in her voice. He made a mental note to never be in the same room with the two women at the same time—not if he wanted to keep with his sanity and physical form intact.
He cleared his throat to hide his amusement. “I understand, though I should warn you that a bullet would not hurt me much.”
Perhaps if she discovered he was supernatural, she would like him less and not see him as a candidate for her daughter’s affections. Most humans would certainly not be happy about it.
Joy was silent for a moment. “What are you?”
“A nephilim.”
“What is that exactly?”
He stared up at the ceiling, tempted to pray for patience even though he wanted nothing from God. “It means one of my parents was human and the other an angel.”
“Oh, well in that case, I give you permission to date my daughter,” Joy said, sounding elated. “It would be nice to have an angel in the family and far better than a horrible man like Griff.”
“I’m half angel, and the full angels don’t like my kind very much.”
She made a dismissive noise. “Oh, I’m sure they’re a bit stuffy living up there in Heaven where they don’t get out often. That’s what my daughter has told me, anyway.”
A knock sounded at the door. Bartol peeked out the front window and found Melena’s Jeep in the drive. She’d said she would be stopping by in the late afternoon. He’d lost track of time and not realized that much of the day had passed already. Cori’s mother was still rambling about angels and the things her daughter had told her about them when Bartol pulled the front door open.
Melena smiled at him. “Hey!”
“Here,” he said, shoving the handset at her. “Talk to her.”
The sensor frowned, giving the phone a dubious look. “Who is it?”
“Joy—Cori’s mother.”
“Oh.” A look of pleasure crossed her face, and she took the phone. “Hey, Joy. How are you?”
Bartol spun on his heels and went to sit on the couch. Melena followed him, taking a seat in the chair across from him. He bowed his head and did his best to block out their conversation, but it wasn’t easy since Melena spoke far more loudly than necessary. Surely the people in Russia could hear her.
“Why, yes, I do believe Bartol would be great for Cori.” She paused for a minute while the other woman talked and then a devilish glint came over the sensor’s eyes. “And yes, he has been taking such good care of your daughter while she’s…sick. Truly, he’s a kind and gentle soul.”
Bartol couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed a pillow from the couch, throwing it at Melena. She ducked in time to avoid it and smothered a laugh. The cursed woman was having far too much fun at his expense. He was half tempted to call her husband and tell him to come collect her.
As Melena continued to regale Joy with tales of what a great man Bartol was, including how he kept his home clean and how protective he’d become of Cori, he left to check on the sleeping woman. She lay in her bed covered with a thick quilt that appeared handmade—possibly by her mother if he had to guess. Cori’s black hair billowed out around her on the pillow, allowing him a full view of her prominent cheekbones, pert nose, and long eyelashes. She had such smooth skin that he was tempted to caress her cheek, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he pulled the quilt aside to check her wounds. Her camisole had ridden up her stomach, giving him a good view of the reddened wound that ran the length of her right side. He examined her left shoulder as well. The stab injury had closed up nicely, but when he grazed his fingers over it, he sensed that inside it still had some knitting to do. Hopefully by tomorrow morning when he woke her up it would be as good as new like he and Micah had promised.
Bartol took a final scan of her body in case there were any other injuries he and Micah might have missed, but then something hit him. Cori did tattoos for a living, yet he couldn’t find a single one on her front side. There was just clear, smooth skin. The only one he knew about was on her back, but she always kept that one covered up. He’d only seen it when he caught her coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her. It was rather unusual for one in her profession to have so few tattoos. He was sorely tempted to turn her over and look at it, but he wouldn’t invade her privacy that way while she lay unconscious.
Melena entered the room and came to stand beside him. She no longer held the phone in her hand. “Joy told me she hopes to talk to you again soon. She says you seem like a nice young man, and she wishes the best for you and Cori.”
Bartol grunted but refused to reply.
“How is she?” Melena asked, her tone softening.
“Still healing, but much better than before.” He pulled the quilt back over Cori. She’d given him permission to che
ck on her, but no one else. He doubted she’d be offended about Melena, but he still preferred to preserve the woman’s dignity while she lay there vulnerable.
“I wish I could sleep my wounds off like that,” the sensor said.
He glanced at her. “We all have prices to pay for what we are.”
“No kidding.” Melena hugged herself. “But I hate to see one of my friends down like this. Most everyone we know is either immortal or at least has some sort of supernatural defenses. She doesn’t have anything.”
Similar thoughts had crossed his mind in recent days. “That is why we must protect her.”
“Except she hates it, and I totally understand her reasons. Most independent women don’t want to become damsels in distress and would rather protect themselves.” Melena shook her head. “A gun isn’t going to be enough for her this time, though.”
Yesterday’s events had proven that. He was proud that Cori won her fight in the end, but it came at a great cost. All he had to do was look down at her sleeping form to see that. “This vampire is too unpredictable to leave her alone for even a few minutes anymore.”
Melena nodded. “Giving her a little space clearly didn’t work.”
“We’ll work out a schedule for one of us to be with her at all times, and I’ll enlist Tormod’s assistance as well. Bodyguard duty would be a good lesson for him.”
“Especially if it gets him out of that compound for longer periods,” she said.
Bartol studied the sensor. “I know you have your own duties to attend to with your government job, but it would help if you could find more time to help me search for Griff. We have to find him.”
“I know.” Melena rubbed her face. “I can’t begin to tell you how many fires I’m putting out on a daily basis since DHS is still getting the hang of dealing with supernaturals. Still…there is a lot I could hand off to Patrick. I’m just a control freak is all.”
Bartol would ask to use Patrick instead, but for reasons no one understood, a male sensor’s range was half as much as a female’s. Emily’s father was also mortal, which made him too vulnerable against a vampire like Griff. Melena was the best choice to assist on this hunt.
“If we work together, perhaps we can end this quickly,” Bartol said, a plan forming in his head. “You can drive and tell me when you sense any young vampires. I’ll flash over to check them out.” He surmised they could cover a lot of ground that way.
“Sounds like a plan.” She gestured for them to leave the room. “Just give me a day or two to hand things off to Patrick first.”
Bartol walked with her outside. “That’s fine. I cannot leave Cori until she is fully healed anyway.”
“You’re waking her up tomorrow morning, right?” Melena asked, stopping on the porch.
“Yes, but I will watch over her for at least another day to be sure she’s fine.”
The sensor grinned. “You do realize that after she wakes up she’ll start flirting with you again. We both know you’ll start wanting to flee after about ten minutes of it.”
“I can resist her if it means keeping her safe.”
The sensor arched a brow. “But why do you bother? It’s just sex.”
“Don’t start,” he growled.
“That’s why you’re cranky all the time.” She shook her index finger at him. “You’ve got Cori right there, willing to help you out, and she’s not even asking for a serious relationship or commitment. Take her up on her offer. I promise it won’t kill you.”
“Don’t you have your own family to worry about?” he asked.
Her expression turned serious. “Bartol, I consider you part of my family as well, or I wouldn’t bother you about this.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. The last time he’d had any sort of family was when he was very young, but even those memories had mostly faded. He didn’t dare dream of having such a thing again. “You don’t know me that well.”
“I know you enough,” she said, giving him an earnest look. “We spent enough time in Purgatory together that I believe you deserve love and family just as much as anyone else. Take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched Melena saunter away. More and more, he understood how the woman got under Lucas’ skin despite her being a “hated” sensor. She had a heart of gold, much like the woman resting inside the house. He turned on his heels and went in to check on Cori again. Like a moth to a flame, Bartol couldn’t resist while she wasn’t awake to see how much she fascinated him.
Chapter 17
Cori
She drifted weightless yet heavy at the same time. Her body floated in a sea of hazy darkness broken only by a thin beam of light glowing on the horizon, telling her there was a way out. She simply couldn’t move to get there. There were no dreams in this solitary place, but neither was there fear, danger, or sadness. It was simply somewhere to rest. With each passing moment, her body grew stronger, and the pain she’d felt before steadily faded away. If only she could remember why she was here.
“Wake up, Cori,” a deep voice said, penetrating the fog.
It pulled at her like a lifeline toward the light.
“Cori.” The man dragged out her name slowly this time. He sounded familiar, but her mind was so muddled that she couldn’t think clearly or remember who he might be.
“Wake up!”
The light burst over her and she shot up in bed, knocking her head into someone hovering over her. She rubbed the sore spot. “Ow, what?”
“You were just as difficult to pull out of slumber as you were to put in it.” Bartol rubbed his temple and gave her a frustrated look. “How do you feel?”
Cori did a mental check of her body. Her shoulder didn’t hurt anymore, though when she moved her left arm, there was still some stiffness in the joint. A faint ache remained where she’d been sliced in her side, but otherwise it felt much better as well. She glanced at both wounds and couldn’t find any sign of them. The healing sleep had done its job. She suspected getting up and about would help dispel any of the lingering soreness.
“Better,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Get up and walk around.”
She slid out of bed, noticing she still wore the same black camisole and underwear she’d put on before going to sleep. Bartol’s expression stayed blank. He didn’t appear to be affected by her near nakedness this time, which was a little disappointing. Cori stretched, testing her limbs. He didn’t even blink. She grabbed her robe from the bedpost closest to her and pulled it over her shoulders to cover her back and the tattoo there, leaving it open in the front. Then she strutted past Bartol to the other end of the room before returning to stop right in front of him.
“I’m okay,” she informed him with a satisfied smile. “Did anything happen while I was asleep?”
“You’re moving a little stiffly. It will take another day or two for you to be fully recuperated—which wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d allowed Micah to finish the job.”
She glared at him. “I’m fine. Now answer my question.”
Bartol worked his jaw. “Melena stopped by to visit.”
“Has she had any luck tracking down Griff?” Cori asked, unsurprised the sensor had come by to check on her.
“Nothing so far, but we’re working on it.”
Bartol was acting colder and more brusque than usual. Before he’d put her to sleep, there’d been concern and worry lurking in his golden gaze, but now she couldn’t see any emotion at all. Something had happened. Something he wasn’t telling her about. Cori wanted to know what had made him even more annoyed with her than usual, but she needed to finish waking up first. The sleep he’d put her under had been deep, and she wasn’t ready to match wits with him quite yet.
“I’m going to take a shower.” She cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you could make coffee while I’m in there?”
Bartol crossed his arms. “Do I look like a man who knows how to prepare coffee?”
“Absolutely. And
if you don’t, then you should.”
“The pot will be ready when you get out.” He paused, shifting from foot to foot. “Be grateful Emily forced a coffee maker on me recently when she discovered I did not have one and made me learn how to use it. Otherwise, you would be out of luck.”
“Good for her.” Cori would have to remember to thank the teenager later.
Bartol spun on his heels and left without another word. Something was definitely up, but she’d have to wait to find out. She dug through her dresser drawers, gathering everything she needed so she wouldn’t have to return to her room in a towel. Once satisfied, she carried her bundle to the bathroom, overhearing Bartol moving in the kitchen along the way. Hopefully coffee would do him some good as well. He looked like he’d hardly slept since she last saw him. Had he been guarding her and doing patrols the entire time? When she’d asked him to watch over her, she hadn’t meant that he couldn’t rest at all.
Cori took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe away the last of her aches and pains. After she got out, she blow dried her hair and got dressed quickly. The scent of freshly brewed coffee had permeated into the bathroom, calling her name. After nearly two days without it, she wasn’t wasting any time getting her fix.
Bartol wasn’t in the kitchen when she entered, but he’d left a mug on the counter for her. She filled it with coffee, adding some cream and sugar for good measure. The brew soothed her when she took her first sip. For a few minutes, she stood in the kitchen and let herself enjoy it. It wasn’t until she heard movement in the living room that she finally grew curious enough to go out there. Bartol stood next to the couch, waiting for her. He hesitated for a moment when their eyes met, and then he reached down to grab something.
“Do you want to tell me about this?” he asked, lifting a portrait for her to see.
Cori lost her grip on the mug she held. It crashed onto the wooden floor, shattering into pieces and splattering coffee all over the place. She hadn’t bothered to put on shoes yet, so her feet got wet and sticky as well. Cori swayed and had to grip the kitchen doorframe to keep from falling into the mess.
