“Why was I taken out of my box?” I was as angry with myself as I was at my companions. I had fallen asleep with the lid open, so it hadn’t been locked from the inside. But I had been moved. Someone had touched me while I slept. A cold chill of fear gripped my frame in a tight fist. No one saw me during the daylight hours; not servants or guardians. The complete vulnerability during that long stretch of time was the only thing I loathed about being a nightwalker.
“Michael said you don’t sleep in a coffin when you are home,” Danaus said. “He also said you were screaming when you awoke last night.”
“It was a nightmare.” My eyes darted back to the subdued pattern on the comforter. I’d had a blissfully empty day this time, but I could clearly recall the nightmare from the previous day. Pushing the thought aside, I looked back up at Danaus. “Who moved me?”
“I did,” he said, holding my gaze.
“Why?”
“I wanted to see you sleep.” His eyes never wavered from my face. There was a strange intensity to him that set me ill at ease. “You never moved. You’re just a corpse.” His eyes seemed to harden as he spoke but he sounded confused. It was as if he couldn’t reconcile the fact that moments ago I was cold and stiff and now I was sitting in bed talking to him. “Can you awaken during the day?”
“Not yet. Someday, maybe. The Ancients sleep less, but we all lay down when the sun rises in the morning. Vampires are remnants of an old war,” I explained. This line of questions was unexpected.
“What war?”
“The eternal battle between the sun and moon.”
Danaus nodded and rose from his chair, which he pulled to one side. “I don’t harm creatures while they are defenseless.”
“A hunter with honor.”
“One of the few. The meeting is in an hour,” he announced, then left the room. I stared at the closed door, feeling him moving about the hotel room. He was uneasy as well, some part of him simmering. I couldn’t read his thoughts, but I could pick up on his emotions. So much anger and turmoil stewed in his chest. He also had questions with no answers, and I was at their center. He had spent years of his life killing my kind, but I think he was beginning to question his choices. Maybe a part of him was starting to see we weren’t all mindless killers, and it bothered him.
Grinning, I sauntered into the pale yellow bathroom off the bedroom and turned on the shower. I might be able to use this to my advantage. I wasn’t sure how, but it was an interesting development. Hell, at that point I was happy to have anything resembling useful information.
Scrubbing off the layers of blood and soot, I hummed an inane little tune to myself, glad to finally be free of the last remnants of naturi. After blow-drying my hair, I pulled on a pair of black leather pants and a long-sleeve silk shirt. This one was a brilliant blue, nearly matching the shade of Danaus’s eyes. It would establish a subtle tie between us. I wasn’t confident my new friend from Themis would pick up on it, but I had plans for this evening. As a finishing touch, I added a pair of rectangular sunglasses with blue lenses. I turned in front of the large mirror, taking in my appearance. A warm meal, a good day’s sleep, and a hot shower had left me feeling upbeat. I could finally see an end to this winding road. After my brief meeting with this Themis character, I would locate Sadira and find a replacement for Tabor. When that was done, I was headed home and the Coven was on its own. I was back in control of my life and it felt good.
My intrepid companion didn’t give me a second glance as we left the hotel and climbed into a taxi. We were silent as the little car swept us across the city to Mayfair. My trips to London had been infrequent over the years, but I’d been here often enough to recognize the various boroughs regardless of what century it was. And for as long as I’d known, Mayfair was the posh center of the universe for the monied elite. Alighting from the cab, I paused and looked up at the beautiful brick town house with its flower boxes overflowing with blooms. This was not what I had expected. I thought we would find ourselves in a seedy part of town, the back room of some disreputable bar or grimy warehouse with its family of oversized rats.
Directly across from us was Grosvenor Square, with its old trees reaching up at the night sky. The landscape was dotted with old brick facades and black iron fences, keeping the common rabble at bay. Matching black lamps stood at the corners, attempting to beat back the fog that had already begun to roll in from the Thames as the temperature dropped for the night.
The city felt vastly different from Savannah. Old Europe was quieter, more subdued, as if its dark history demanded that a hushed silence be observed in the dark hours of the night if you were out on the street. As if, otherwise, any one of the ancient myths of the fey or even my own kind might creep out from the shadows and strike. Europe held onto her old tales and superstitions longer, weaving them into the histories they had witnessed as if they were truths as well. The New World proved to be vastly different, with her shorter memory and fast-paced lifestyle that wouldn’t slow down for anyone, not even an old ghost story like a vampire.
Shrugging, I followed Danaus up the front stairs and into the house, trying to ignore the way the air seemed to tingle around me. Too much magic in the air, too much old magic in this hallowed isle.
I noticed that he didn’t bother to knock, but walked into the foyer. Without pause, he continued down the hall to a door on the left of the stairs that led to the second floor. He had been here before.
The building was the typical English town house, with shining hardwood floors and Oriental rugs. The paintings on the walls were of hunting scenes and wild gardens set up against dark woods. There were no photographs of family and friends. I reached out and found only one other person in the house; a man, extremely nervous. I couldn’t stop the smile that lifted my lips, leaving the tips of my fangs poking out just below. Danaus paused with his hand on the brass-handled double doors and looked back at me. He felt the slight sweep of power as I searched the house, and frowned. I like to think he knew better than to ask me to behave.
Pushing open the two doors, we stepped into a brightly lit library. The man sitting behind the desk jumped at the sound of the doors opening but quickly covered it up by rising to his feet. He was wearing a dark brown suit with a creamy white shirt and brown patterned tie. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses was perched on his sharp, straight nose.
I laughed. I laughed so hard and deep that I leaned forward on Danaus’s shoulder, my hand pressed to my stomach. This was not what I had expected. My experience with Themis was Danaus and hunters like him. I had naturally assumed this was a trained group of assassins; cold, hardened mercenaries. The confused man standing behind the large desk looked like a librarian. Still laughing, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He sucked in a harsh breath as the power layered beneath the laughter brushed against him like a cat wanting affection. Interesting. He shouldn’t have been able to feel that unless he had some experience with magic.
Then I stopped laughing. It was like I flipped a switch. One moment my laughter filled the room, and then it was gone. There was no gentle ebbing of the sound, just complete silence, except for the man’s harsh breathing. I glanced at Danaus. No frowns. No glares. No unspoken warnings. In fact, his face was completely expressionless. I almost started laughing again. In his own way, he had given me the green light to have some fun. He, of course, would try to rein me in if I went too far, but until we reached that point, I had carte blanche.
“Enough games,” I announced with a weary air, still leaning on Danaus. “I’ve had my laugh, but we don’t have time for this. Where is the contact from Themis?”
“I–I am from Themis,” the man, still standing, stammered, lifting his chin a little higher into the air.
“I don’t want to talk to its accountant.”
“I am a full-fledged member of Themis and have been for almost ten years.” His voice gained strength as anger crowded his words. His brown eyes flicked to Danaus for half a breath before jumping back to me, as if u
rging the hunter to speak up.
“Really?” My gaze swept over the room. The library was a nice large room, with floor-to-ceiling dark wood shelves running the length of two of the walls. Floor lamps with beaded fringe shades stood guarding the four corners, beating back the darkness to its hiding place behind the sofa and under the large desk at the opposite end of the room. What little could be seen of the walls revealed a deep hunter green that was also in the Persian rugs that covered the hardwood floor.
I stepped around Danaus and approached the desk. Behind me, I heard the hunter step out of the line of fire to the plaid-patterned sofa that rested near the back wall.
The librarian tensed, but he didn’t back up, as I strolled closer. “In what capacity do you serve Themis?”
“I’m a researcher, like most members of Themis.”
“Most?” I turned sideways so I could look at Danaus, who was watching me. “What about Danaus? It was my impression that you were all like him.”
“Oh, no,” he said. He shook his head as a condescending smile lifted his thin lips. “Danaus is part of a small group of enforcers within Themis.”
“Don’t you mean trained murderers?” I corrected, my words cracking across his chest like a whip. This time he flinched. He tried to take a step backward, but ended up falling back into his chair. He paled and struggled to form words. His eyes darted over to Danaus as if seeking protection, but his enforcer never moved.
“We have to protect ourselves,” the librarian said at last.
“You’ve had creatures killed that were no threat to you,” I said evenly. I paused beside one of the pair of chairs positioned in front of his desk, my hand resting on the back.
“You’ve killed humans!” he said.
“Humans kill other humans every day in order to survive.” I shrugged my slim shoulders as I strolled closer, my hand slipping off the chair.
“But you feed on us.”
A smile flitted across my lips as images of Michael danced through my thoughts for a moment. “Only those who permit me.”
“But—”
“In two days, she’s fed at least twice.” Danaus’s presence and his deep voice almost cast a shadow over the room; a part of me wanted to step back into that bit of darkness. “No one has died.”
“That’s impossible!” the man said, jumping to his feet and slamming his palms on the empty surface of the desk. His eyes were wide and glittering in the bright light. “You just haven’t seen the bodies. It has been well documented that vampires must kill their prey to sustain their existence. It’s not really the blood they survive on, but the death that gives them power.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. He sounded like he was quoting from a textbook. “How long have you studied my kind?” I inquired, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.
“Themis has watched vampires for almost three centuries.”
“And how many have you spoken to?”
“Personally? None.” His voice lost some of its confidence and he sat back down again, seemingly shaken. His brows were gathered over his nose and his lips were pressed into a thin frown. “Until now.”
“What about the others?”
“We don’t talk to vampires. It’s…too dangerous. You…kill,” he said, struggling to find the words.
Smiling again, I paced around the desk until I was standing behind his chair. He twisted around so he was looking at me. Folding my hands on the back of his chair, I rested my chin on my hands. His fear was so thick and heavy I could taste it. My eyelids drifted closed and I drew in a deep breath, letting his fear swirl around me like an expensive perfume.
“So, you’ve decided to slaughter my kind based on myths and false information.”
“But—But you kill,” he said, as if it was the answer to everything.
“So do you,” I whispered, staring deep into his eyes before I continued the circuit around to the front of the desk. Walking over to Danaus, I removed my sunglasses and hooked them over the top button of my blouse. I could feel the librarian relax in his chair as I moved away from him. Putting my right knee on the sofa next to Danaus’s left hip, I sat down beside him, throwing my left leg across his lap. His hands remained limp at his side. He didn’t touch me, but, more important, he didn’t push me off away either. I leaned close, putting my left arm across his chest, resting my hand on his shoulder. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see the other man watching us closely, his forehead furrowed with a look of absolute confusion and shock.
Luckily for me, Danaus had bathed and changed into a clean set of clothes. He had rid himself of the smell of the naturi, reminding me again of a warm summer breeze dancing across the whitecaps in the Mediterranean. His chin and cheeks were free of dark stubble and he looked as if he’d actually caught a few hours of sleep.
I leaned in so my lips lightly brushed Danaus’s ear. His muscles tensed. “Does Themis know what you can do?” I whispered. His powers flared around me in response to some emotion I couldn’t quite place. I don’t think it was the question that bothered him, but some deeper thought. I could understand that. We all had something to hide.
“No.”
“So I thought,” I murmured. I started to lift my left leg from his lap when Danaus grabbed my calf with his right hand, holding me in place. His touch was warmer than I’d expected, almost burning through my leather pants. Shocked by his sudden willingness to touch me, I went completely still.
Turning his head to look at me, my lips brushed his cheek and we both froze. Danaus exhaled slowly and I found myself drawing in his breath, holding it inside me. If one of us moved less than an inch, our lips would meet. But we sat like two stone statues.
“Jabari?” he finally asked, his whispered question deep and husky.
I stared at the hunter’s chiseled profile, nearly drowning in his deep sapphire eyes. I hadn’t told Jabari. It hadn’t even occurred to me to tell the Ancient. Of course, if I had, Danaus would not have left Aswan alive. Why hadn’t I told Jabari? If he didn’t kill me over the whole Nerian fiasco, my existence was definitely forfeit for this little oversight.
Why didn’t I tell him? Was it because I didn’t like to share? Jabari would kill Danaus and that would be the end of it. He wouldn’t appreciate the challenge the hunter represented. Or was it that Danaus was like me, an outcast among his own kind? Of course, I didn’t know what he was, so that line of logic was a dead end.
“No,” I said, unable to keep from coating that single word with my obvious surprise.
Danaus arched one dark brow at me, mocking one of my favorite expressions. Yeah. I was just full of surprises.
“Lilacs,” he suddenly said. When my only reply was confused silence, he continued. “You smell like lilacs. No matter what you’ve been doing, you smell like lilacs.”
Moving my head slightly, I brushed my lips across his chin. Every fiber of my being was screaming for a kiss, just a taste of his lips and his mouth. My hand tightened on his shoulder and I pressed my body a little closer. “Like you smell of the sun and sea?”
“Yes.” His hand squeezed my calf again, but it wasn’t a warning. His strong fingers kneaded the muscle in a deep massage, keeping me pressed tightly against him.
“Is that a bad thing?” My lips rose, skimming across his jaw to the corner of his mouth.
“No. Just…unexpected.” With the speed of a glacier, Danaus turned his parted lips toward mine, his hot breath caressing my face.
A pen clattered to the hardwood floor, jerking us apart. We had forgotten about the gawking librarian. My head swung to the man behind the desk, a low growl escaping me. Danaus tightened his grip on my leg while his other arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place.
“Let me throw him out the window,” I said in a low voice.
“Mira…”
My eyes jerked back to his face, searching his gaze for any sign of frustration. I couldn’t see it in his eyes, but the evidence pressed against my thigh, which was still dra
ped over his lap. “I’ll be gentle.”
“With me or him?” I don’t think he meant to say it out loud because his eyes widened with surprise. I leaned in to finish the kiss that had been rudely interrupted when he said, “The naturi.” The only two words that could instantly kill my libido.
My head fell forward and I rested my forehead against his shoulder. “Bastard,” I muttered softly. Danaus rubbed his hand up and down my back once, as if trying to soften the blow. Now was not the time.
I turned my gaze back to our spectator behind the desk, my cheek grazing Danaus’s jaw. The librarian shifted in his chair, attempting to square his shoulders. I slid my hand back across Danaus’s chest as I rose from the sofa as if pulled by marionette strings.
“What are you called?” I asked, strolling back over to the desk.
“James Parker.”
“I am Mira.” Taking one of the seats in front of his desk, I put my right heel on the edge of his desk and crossed my other foot over it at the ankle. He frowned at my feet.
“The Fire Starter,” he said, dragging his eyes from my boots. His long, nimble fingers snatched up a fountain pen that had rolled off the ink blotter.
“Perhaps not all your information is bad, after all. Your group seems to be relatively well informed about the naturi—tell me what you know.”
“About the naturi?”
“Start with your opinion of them,” I commanded, inspecting my fingernails.
“Well, they are nothing like the fairy tales that are based on their race; all that nonsense about elves and fairies,” he began. Withdrawing a small square of cloth from this pocket, James removed his glasses and started to clean them. I had a feeling that this was more of a nervous habit than any actual need to remove dirt. “They are cold, ruthless, and view humans as a plague on the earth. Their power lies with the sun and the earth. We have evidence that says the naturi are the reason for several lost civilizations through time, up until about five hundred years ago.”
Nightwalker Page 17
