by Chloe Hart
She forced herself not to look back.
Chapter Five
Evan slept like the dead—which, of course, he was—and woke up at sunset the following day feeling better than he had in a long time.
He wondered if that was one of the effects of the spell Celia had done the night before.
He closed his eyes as he remembered that moment, the thrill that ran through him as she spoke the words of the spell. Her energy had flowed into him through the crystal she held against his chest, and he could have sworn his dead heart tried to beat in rhythm with hers.
Christ, he needed to get a grip. He was starting to sound like a lovesick schoolboy.
But he couldn’t stop thinking of the way she’d looked as she’d faced down Hawk in the street, that crossbow held in her trembling hands. The courage and determination that had sparked in her eyes.
And he remembered what she’d told him last night, the dilemma she found herself in—and the solution she wanted her people to adopt. She was naïve, yes, but also brave and selfless.
And what it all added up to was that Celia Albright was not for him.
It had nearly killed him when she’d offered her blood. His demon had almost howled out loud as he’d pictured her on her back under him, her neck arched to expose that beautiful throat. He’d been a hair’s breadth away from lunging for her like an animal…until he’d realized why she’d made the offer.
Because she felt grateful. Because she thought she owed him.
Which was pretty fucking ironic, considering he’d kicked her out when she’d come to him for help—and almost got her killed.
No, Celia wasn’t for him—even though she seemed to have ruined him for other women without ever having been his. Quite a trick, that. Witness the fact that he hadn’t been able to stomach drinking from any of the girls in the club last night, and had told Shank to bring him a supply of animal blood instead.
Yeah, he was well and truly fucked.
And having her here, just a few rooms away, was not going to improve the situation. He suspected he’d be drinking butcher shop fare as long as she was under his roof, not to mention mooning after her like some kind of idiot.
He had to get her out of here as soon as it was safe. He needed to neutralize the threat against her, make sure she was in no danger from her own kind or his. Then he could send her on her way, back to her human boyfriend, and do his best to forget she existed.
Which meant, among other things, arranging a meet with Hawk on neutral ground.
He was downstairs an hour later, talking to one of his old London mates who had no idea how to get in touch with Hawk, when Shank popped his head into the office.
“He’s on line two.”
Evan frowned. “Who?”
“Hawk.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “Well, well. That makes my job easier.”
He picked up line two as Shank closed the office door again. “Hello, old friend. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it was to catch up last night.”
“The pleasure was mine. How’s the arm?”
“All patched up, thanks.”
“It’s good to know your cricket-playing days aren’t over. You were one hell of a bowler at university, if I recall.”
They had both graduated from Oxford—Evan in 1934 and Hawk nearly half a century earlier.
“You were the cricket legend, mate. Is that what you called to chat about?”
“No.” There was a long pause. “That Fae female—you haven’t marked her or claimed her.”
A vampire could sense the marks of another vampire’s bite on a human, even if they weren’t visible to the naked eye. And when a vampire claimed a human—whether as a blood source or as mate—the claim created a kind of energy signature that other vampires could feel, as well.
“No. Your point?”
“She can’t mean much to you yet.”
“Your point?”
“I’m wondering how much she’s told you. About what she’s up to.”
“She’s told me enough.”
“Has she told you she wants to close the portals between this world and the demon dimension?”
How the hell did Hawk know that? It was hard to believe a Fae would talk to a vampire about this shit. Unless he was fishing for information?
“I’m not passing on a damn thing about what she’s told me.”
A low chuckle sounded over the phone. “Still a cagey bastard, I see. I’m cagey, too, but I’m willing to make an exception in this case.” There was another pause. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that Celia Albright told you that she went to her clan leaders to propose that they destroy their supply of absinthe. Not just here, but all over the world. Will you accept that scenario as a working hypothesis?”
“Go on.”
“Let’s also assume she told you that the clans weren’t exactly wild about her suggestion. Because if they close that door, their powers will wane. They’ll diminish over time until they’re no different from ordinary humans.”
“Go on.”
“Did it occur to you that the Fae aren’t the only supernaturals who would be affected? Where the hell do you suppose our powers come from?”
Evan was silent. The truth was, it hadn’t occurred to him…and it should have.
He knew why it hadn’t. Whenever he was within a hundred feet of Celia, he couldn’t seem to think straight.
“Ah. She didn’t tell you that part, did she?”
He couldn’t let that go. “Assuming that Celia did tell me this, you can also assume—hypothetically—that she didn’t keep anything back to deceive me. You can assume—hypothetically—that she’s honestly trying to do the right thing, according to her lights. She’s only just found all this out, remember. She hasn’t had time to think it all through. She’s in a bloody rotten position and she’s doing the best she can. And it’s only natural that her first concern is going to be for her own people—the Fae and the humans.”
“Defending a lady…how uncharacteristically chivalrous. And unnecessary in this case, as I didn’t mean to insult her. Of course it’s natural for her to think of her people. Just as it’s natural for us to think of our people. I don’t expect the Albright girl to be wasting any time worrying about vampires. That’s why we need to.”
Evan was silent, and after a moment Hawk continued. “The…parties who hired me for this job believe it’s important to act now. They fear if Miss Albright continues to trumpet her cause, that some among the Fae might come around to her way of thinking. They believe that if they eliminate her now, the danger will pass.”
“Why would killing Celia end the danger? What’s to prevent another Fae from coming to the same conclusion she did?”
“They don’t think it’s very likely, but they’re prepared to deal with any new threats as they arise.”
“By murdering anyone who makes the same suggestion?”
“By taking whatever action necessary to ensure that the portals between dimensions remain open.”
Evan sat back in his chair, realizing for the first time that the discussion with Hawk had brought forth his demon. His lips were drawn back in a snarl, and his fangs ached with the desire to tear and rend and destroy anyone who dared threaten Celia Albright.
But he had to stay cool if he wanted to protect her.
“Why are you telling me this, Hawk? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I want us on the same side. Would you really put the life of a Fae girl—one you’ve not yet marked or claimed—ahead of your own life and that of every vampire in existence?”
Evan dragged a hand over his hair. “This is all speculative. You don’t know for sure what would happen if the absinthe is destroyed. Maybe that would close the portals; maybe it wouldn’t. And what if they do close? We don’t know for sure what would happen then. Maybe everything in this world would stay the same.”
“The parties who engaged me don’t think so, and they’ve put a lot on the line
to back their belief. And if they’re right, it would be far, far worse for us. The Fae are strengthened by the other dimension, but they can live without it. Not so vampires. Our entire existence is fueled by demonic energy. We’ve given up our human lives; there’s nothing else for us but death.”
Evan digested this in silence. What Hawk was predicting might or might not come to pass, even assuming that Celia convinced the Fae to destroy the heart of their culture—a doubtful proposition at best.
None of this was certain. The only thing Evan knew for sure was that Celia had made some powerful enemies, and that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her to stop her from spreading her message.
“You want us on the same side,” he said slowly. “What does that mean?”
“In an ideal world, it would mean your sense of self-preservation has kicked in after what I told you, and you’ll turn the girl over to me without a fuss.”
“Not going to happen.”
“I didn’t think it would. Now, bear in mind that the parties involved will go to war with you if they have to—but they’d much rather avoid anything so publicly bloody. Instead, I’m proposing a compromise. I’ll go to my principals with a promise that your girl will never again so much as hint that the drinking of Faery absinthe is linked to demonic activity on Earth—and that she will never again suggest that absinthe be destroyed.”
“Christ. You think they’d accept a promise like that?”
“I know they will, because I’ve already spoken with them. Miss Albright will have to go before her clan leaders and publicly rescind what she’s said, and she’ll have to swear privately—to certain parties—that she will never speak of it again. And of course, if she ever goes back on her word, her life will be forfeit.”
Evan remembered the look of fierce determination in Celia’s eyes when she was talking about the greater good.
“I don’t know if she’ll do it, Hawk. She’s…honorable. Truehearted.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the other vampire said drily. “If I were you, I’d tell her about the risk to the vampires of the world. Tell her she’d be saving your life as well as her own.”
“I won’t put that on her shoulders.”
“As you like. I think she should be allowed to take that information into account, but that’s your affair. Convince her however you want—but convince her. You have forty-eight hours.”
The line went dead.
Evan hung up the phone, surged to his feet, and slammed his fist into the wall. If he’d been human, the impact would have shattered the bones in his hand.
The only way to ensure Celia’s safety—and that of every vampire on the planet, according to Hawk—was to ask her to betray her ideals.
He didn’t want to do that. But if she did somehow convince the Fae to destroy the absinthe…and it turned out that Hawk was right about the consequences…how would she feel then? How would she feel if the vampire race was wiped out because of her actions? Would she think it was worth it, to protect the human race from evil? Or would she torture herself with guilt?
Or would she think that wiping out vampires was an added bonus?
Most of them, after all, were fair game to the Green Fae warriors. Vampires who hunted and killed humans were favorite targets of the demon hunters. Vampires like Jack Morgan, who had actually allied themselves with the Faery clans, were a rarity. And vampires like him, who refrained from killing humans— not exactly allies but not enemies, either—were almost as rare.
If you were thinking in terms of the greatest good to the greatest number of people—people being humans—then ending the vampire race was a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Evan’s eyes fell on the arrowhead in Celia’s handkerchief, still on his desk from the day before.
Twenty-four hours ago, he’d never heard of Celia Albright. He’d been drinking from one of his regular girls, the club was hopping, and things were marching along as they had done for the last ten years.
He’d made a good life for himself here in Boston. A comfortable life.
Now, because of one small redhead, that life had been turned upside down.
He went out to the club, where extra security had been added and only regulars were being admitted. He’d also paid a witch to add warding spells between the club and the floors above it, where he lived and where Celia was staying. No one but he, Celia, and Shank were able to cross that boundary.
He found Shank behind the bar. “How is she?” he asked without preamble.
“Miss Celia? She’s fine. She woke up a few hours before you did, and I showed her the clothes and things in the guest room. I brought the dinner you told me to order from the human restaurant, and she ate every bite.”
“Did she ask for anything?”
“Yeah, she did.” Shank frowned a little. “She wanted a sugar cube, a cordial glass, and a slotted spoon. I guess she’s making some kind of drink, but she didn’t ask for a bottle of anything.”
Absinthe. That was how you drank it—whether it was the human stuff or the Faery stuff, apparently. He remembered watching his Oxford friend prepare it. He’d put a shot of absinthe in a glass, laid a slotted spoon over the rim with a sugar cube on top of it, and then poured cold water slowly over the cube. As the sugared water dripped into the green absinthe, it had turned almost milky in color, which his friend had informed him was the anise and fennel releasing their flavors into the drink.
If she’d asked for those particular items, it meant Celia was going to take absinthe again tonight.
Well, that was good. They needed more information, right? She’d said she was hoping to learn more while she was in the trance state or whatever.
But she’d also said it was dangerous. That if you took too much, you could be pulled into that other world. The demon world.
Where the Fae had no hearts, no souls, no consciences.
He’d fit in just fine there, but imagining Celia in a place like that…
“You’re in charge tonight,” he told Shank, and went upstairs to her room.
Her door was closed, and he stood in the hallway frowning. She hadn’t asked for him, and he didn’t want to interrupt her if she was in the middle of some Faery magic shit. He might mess things up if he did that.
Or maybe she’d finished with the ritual and was sleeping now—in which case he still shouldn’t go in there.
He imagined her inside, curled up on the bed. Her red-gold hair would be spread out in all its copper glory. Her soft, creamy skin would be warm with sleep…
He cursed softly as he put his hand on the knob and turned it. If it was unlocked, he’d just stick his head in and make sure everything was all right. If it didn’t open—
But it did.
The door opened soundlessly, and he took one step inside.
The moonlight pouring through the windows illuminated the girl lying asleep on the bed. Her long red hair was lustrous and loose, just as he’d imagined, and she was wearing a white cotton camisole top and plaid pajama bottoms. Her arms were flung out to the sides and her legs were tangled in the sheets, as if she’d been tossing and turning.
If she’d been restless earlier, she was sleeping peacefully now. Evan tuned his senses to her and was relieved to find her heartbeat and breathing slow and even. She was perfectly well.
Which meant that he had no reason to stay.
But instead of taking a step backwards, he took one forwards.
And another.
Before he knew it he was in the middle of the room, and the effort to keep from going closer was making him shudder.
She looked like an angel. Her lips were parted slightly, and her softly rounded breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Her delicate scent hung in the air, making his mouth water and his incisors ache.
Other parts of his body ached, too. His cock was harder than granite, straining against his jeans as he imagined ripping the clothes from her body and thrusting into her, hard and deep, until she forgot her human boyfrien
d, forgot the danger she was in, forgot everything but him.
Then he’d take her with his fangs. He’d pierce that perfect throat, marking her as his.
And he’d rip the lungs out of any other man that dared touch her.
He closed his eyes, his body wracked with a hunger more powerful than anything he’d ever felt.
Hunger for Celia.
