by Jenna Barwin
Damn. Double damn. She had told him too much—the fall, the number two hundred—he’d put it all together.
When he returned, she recognized the book he carried and let out the breath she’d been holding. His guess had gone in the direction she wanted it to go.
“This was written over forty years ago,” he said, holding up the paperback book. “It theorized ancient astronauts had landed on this planet thousands of years ago, but it was harshly criticized by anthropologists who studied the same facts.”
Of course it was. Her people had paid the critics who debunked the theory. The Lux couldn’t allow even wild speculation to lead back to the Enclave.
He opened the book to look at the photos. Upside down, she could see the geoglyphs created by the ancient Peruvians, the Nazca Lines intended to be seen by the sky gods. “Is it possible to visit your base without revealing its location?” he asked. “You called it ‘the Enclave’?”
She held up her hand like a stop sign. “No way. My people aren’t going to be happy I told you about it.”
“They will punish you?”
She glared at him in reply. No way would she reveal any more about the Lux to him.
He closed the book abruptly. “I would apologize, but if there is any fault, it is yours, for invading my community in the first place.”
She turned away, rolling over so her back was to him. Let him be angry. Better him than her superiors. Her superiors—oh shit. Her lenses and earrings were still recording. Why didn’t she think of it earlier? She turned them off using a series of blink patterns. There was no way she could soften the blow—the Protectors would see it all when she downloaded her videos. Maybe they won’t be too angry….
Henry’s chair creaked when he sat down. The whisper of an occasional page turn told her he was reading. She tried closing her eyes, but couldn’t sleep. A heavy anxiety tightened her chest, squeezing her lungs—the same anxiety she had felt when her mother abandoned her. All alone. She couldn’t turn to her people for comfort, not after she’d revealed so much to Henry. And though she wanted to trust him, could she? At any moment, he might betray her to his people.
She had to do something more, even if it came with risks.
She rolled back, opened her eyes, and looked at him, focusing every ounce of her aura toward him. After a few moments, he glanced up from his book. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said, reaching out, hoping direct contact would make it easier to influence him with her charm.
He took her hand. “Is there something you need?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“Henry, the lab—it’s my only way to gain independence from my people.” She held his hand tightly. “I, ah, I don’t want to live with mortals,” she stammered. “Their life spans are but a blip to me. I’ll live at least a thousand years.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A thousand years?”
“Give or take. I’ve seen so many mortals die already, it’s almost unbearable.”
Her pita had died over two centuries ago, and most of the families she’d fostered with were long dead. She rolled her lips under, biting them together, her long-buried grief mixing with her fear of more loss.
He tilted his head, like he was considering her words. “I do understand. It’s why we live surrounded by our own kind. Why don’t you live with your own people?”
“It isn’t possible. We— I have to go out in the world. Our mission is to protect humans. We can’t do that from the Enclave.”
She glanced away from him, uncertain how to ask what she wanted without saying too much. If she failed this mission, the Protectors weren’t known for their mercy, but it wasn’t just fear of punishment driving her. Something else had changed. Being around vampires no longer bothered her, but more importantly, she now counted Leopold, Gaea, and Liza as friends. She didn’t want to lose them.
She looked up into his eyes and said, “I want to be part of a community that will live as long as I do. Please don’t take that away from me by revealing what I am before I’m ready.”
She didn’t know how badly she wanted it until she said it.
“Everything is all right,” he replied. “I won’t tell anyone about you.”
She blinked back tears. Would he really protect her?
He got up from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. “You have been through a lot tonight,” he said, and stroked her hair. “You are safe here.”
Safe. She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. He took a tissue from the bedside box and handed it to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away the tears. “I’m not usually so emotional.”
He stroked her hair. “You have been strong all evening, but you don’t have to be strong all the time.”
She looked up at him again. Maybe he would keep her secret.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out her watch and cell phone. “I almost forgot to return these.” He sat frozen for a moment with his eyes fixed on the devices, and then placed them on the bedstand. “You will be here when I rise at sunset? You won’t leave?”
“I’m not going anywhere as long as you don’t tell anyone what I am.”
“Trust me, your secret is safe.” He patted her back. “You should try to sleep. Your body needs its rest.”
He stood up and softly pressed his lips to the back of her hand. The strange tingle went up her arm, just like the first time he’d kissed her there.
Was he a superb hand kisser, or was it something more?
He moved to his chair and resumed reading. Soon her eyelids felt heavy, sleep finally pulling her under.
* * *
With the first glow of sunrise backlighting the curtains, Henry yawned. Time to retire. The moon had set earlier, so dawn controlled the start of his slumber. He hated those days when the moon rose before the sun set, when he had to lurk through his own home like a wraith, closing the window curtains to avoid the killing rays of the sun. No one understood why, but exposure to the sun’s rays undid the vampire effect, returning the flesh to its dead state—those who survived it described the experience as being slowly cooked from the outside in.
He stood and stretched. Cerissa still slept, her molasses-colored hair in disarray, partially hiding her face. He carefully lifted the errant strands, brushing them softly aside.
She is beautiful.
But her beauty was illusory. It wasn’t her real self.
What is reality?
He touched her hand.
Solid matter.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She stirred, but didn’t wake.
So lovely.
Perhaps he had been too quick to judge her at the casino. There had to be a reason God put her between him and a bullet—maybe he was meant to be the first to know her secret.
He hadn’t said anything to Rolf. Not yet, at least. He didn’t like keeping secrets, but he’d given Cerissa his word, and when the moment came to say something, he couldn’t justify breaking his vow.
He went downstairs and into the crypts below his house. He pulled the index card out of his back pocket, the risk matrix. Leopold’s comment about her aura, her ability to charm—was he falling under her spell? Would his promise put his people at risk?
He wrote those questions on the card, and then posted the card on an old-fashioned bulletin board he kept in his basement dressing room, which held similar cards, and changed clothes for his day’s sleep. When he woke tonight, he would consider the card again to see if it revealed any new truths.
Chapter 24
Cerissa sat up abruptly in bed, her heart racing, the room brightly lit with sunlight. Where the hell was she? A tall, dark stranger had leaned over her, kissing her while she slept; the sensation of his lips still echoed on her face. Why hadn’t her lenses warned her? She looked at the blue- and yellow-flowered wallpaper, the wallpaper reminding her where she was—at Henry’s house. Her lenses hadn’t warned her because she’d turned them of
f.
She glanced around. No kissing bandit in the room, so it must have been a dream—although she’d gladly swap the dream for her current reality.
What am I, a complete amateur? I’ll never live this down. She had no idea what the Protectors would do once she reported her mistake. When she saved Leopold’s life she’d revealed too much to him; the Protectors were furious at the time. And now this—they wouldn’t be happy.
Her stomach growled, loudly. Well, breakfast would cure that problem. She carefully swung her legs out of bed and stood up. Not dizzy—a good sign. She took a step. Legs steady, but her back felt sore from the fall. She took another step and looked around. At least this room wasn’t a frilly, frothy mess, like her room at Gaea’s house.
The adjoining bathroom was large and luxurious. She found a note Henry had left next to some packaged toiletries—toothbrush, toothpaste—inviting her to use what she needed. A courteous host, even if he had bullied her into revealing herself. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. Her back to the mirror, she lifted the tank top and looked for any bruises. A few scrapes, and one big blue one was already turning purple. Should she morph it back to normal? The doctor’s next exam might be more thorough. She let it be, so he wouldn’t question her lack of injuries from the fall. But the one on the back of her head, the one hidden by her hair—that bruise she fixed. Dr. Asshole wasn’t likely to notice its absence.
She triggered the eject process for her contact lenses, a slight zzzt vibration as the tentacles detached from her optic nerve and slid back into each lens, and then she popped them out. Feeling better, she returned to the bedroom and picked up her phone, sliding back the hidden compartment. She dropped in her lenses and adjusted the settings so the video recordings would only be transmitted to her mission supervisor. Ari was smart. Once he saw what happened, he’d know what to do next.
Henry’s plush green bathrobe hung on a hook by the closet. The sleeve looked big enough to accommodate her bandages. Slipping off the sling, she donned the robe and took a deep whiff of the clove, cedar, and other spices rising from it—his cologne. Did the dream stranger wear the same scent as Henry? Her dreams must have latched on to last night’s trauma and rewritten the ending.
Her stomach growled again. I need food more than I need dream analysis.
She went downstairs and found a short hallway leading to the kitchen. She hadn’t expected such an impressive kitchen in a vampire’s home, right down to the modern appliances. She ran her finger along one of the granite counters.
Preternaturally clean. That, or Henry had maid service.
Karen would probably sleep for another three hours, and she couldn’t wait. Taking eggs, bread, and butter out of the refrigerator, she whipped up a simple but filling breakfast.
After she finished eating, her curiosity got the better of her and she went exploring. An antique wrought-iron chandelier hung in the center of his entryway. It may have once held candles—it was now wired for electric lights.
She followed Henry’s rule and only entered a room if the door was open. The drawing room was large and spacious, taking up almost half of the first floor and dominated by a large river-stone fireplace with a walnut-stained mantel, the walls painted stark white—very Spanish Colonial Revival.
The room was so perfect, she almost expected a Classy Homes Magazine photographer to ring the doorbell any minute. The furniture was all leather, with decorative wooden touches. She could tell a lot about Henry from his decorating—he probably drew comfort from the traditional styles he’d lived with for most of his life. She fitted her fingers into the grooves of one of the armrests, the carved wood shaped like the claw of an animal, and smiled to herself. The chair sat close to the fireplace. From the amount of wear, it must be his favorite chair.
The mantel clock chimed the half-hour. Enough stalling—time to face up to my mistake. She steeled herself and went upstairs, switching her phone to a special frequency. She hit the call button. By now, Ari should have viewed last night’s video.
“Hey, Ciss!” he exclaimed when a 3-D image of him appeared, floating above the phone. From the surroundings, he sat at a bar in a dance club. “Your reports are getting rave reviews at headquarters.”
Her throat tightened. “Then you haven’t seen the latest?”
“The gunshot? Marvelous drama. We couldn’t have staged it better. Which reminds me—you did stage it, didn’t you?”
“No, they were trying to shoot Henry. I got in the way.”
“That sourpuss? I can understand why.”
“Ari, have you viewed the past twelve hours after the shooting?”
“I scanned it up to the surgery. Gruesome bit of barbarity, wasn’t it?”
“You should have been on the receiving end. If I were human, I’d sue Dr. Ass—er, I mean, Dr. Clarke.”
“So why the call?” A hand holding a towel wiped the bar in front of him. He swiveled in the direction of the off-camera bartender. “Yeah, I’ll take another,” he said, before turning back to her. “Looks like things are moving along fine.”
“I blew it.”
“Come now, my little cousin on her first undercover assignment—there’s bound to be a few glitches, but you’re fitting in just fine with the natives. The top dogs are happy.”
“But the Protectors won’t like—”
“You worry too much. You’re doing marvelous work, Ciss.”
“Ah,” she said, raking both hands through her hair. “I got trapped into revealing what I am to Henry.”
She started pacing, explaining what happened last night.
“Do you know what the Protectors will do when they find out?” he asked, glowering at her. “They’ll cut off your wings—that’s what they’ll do.”
“It isn’t fair—I don’t have enough experience for this kind of assignment.”
“You’ve had over two hundred years of blending in with humans—”
“As a karabu,” she insisted, frowning at the image of him hovering above her phone. “It’s only been ten years since I made the transition to principatus and started ‘blending’ as an adult mortal.”
A hand came into view, and a glass of something clear appeared in front of him. He shot it down. “You better hope the Protectors are in a lenient mood.”
She stopped pacing and slumped onto the bedside chair. “Henry’s promised not to tell anyone.”
“Naïve. The only person who can keep a secret is a dead one. Wait, he is dead. Strike that.”
“Maybe we should wait a few years and find a new ruse to infiltrate a different community.”
He shoved his glass toward the bartender, pointing at it. “Kid, if he leaks this, we won’t be able show up in another treaty community. They’ll be on the lookout for our kind.”
“He won’t leak it. Honor is important to him. He’ll keep his promise.”
“Honor? Let’s get more basic—you have to seduce him. Where his dick goes, so will his loyalty.”
“Are you kidding?!”
“Hey, he’s not bad looking. If he screws you, he’ll feel protective—it’s built into their vampire genes.”
“But my assignment rules—I can’t be, ah, intimate with the subjects I’m observing.”
“Geez, Ciss, no operative follows that rule. It’s just boilerplate on every assignment. We do what we have to do to get the job done.”
She sighed. The thought had momentary appeal. Henry was handsome, in a dark and powerful way. She’d felt a spark of attraction from the first moment she saw him at the dance. And the way he’d taken care of her during surgery showed his compassionate side. But the other side of his personality—so angry, so suspicious.
Still, it wasn’t right either way. “I’m not going to manipulate him using sex.”
“You will if you want to stay in his community.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. If I do seduce him, they’ll throw me out for sure. Didn’t you read their Covenant? I sent it to you.”
&nb
sp; “I’m still working my way through that tome. Uptight, aren’t they?”
“Then you should know they don’t care what happens outside their walls, but they don’t approve of casual sex between a mortal and vampire within their walls. They’re afraid it will lead to territorial battles.”
Ari stopped while the bartender poured more liquid into his glass. “Then the Protectors have only one option: eliminate Henry before he can tell anyone.”
“What?” she screeched at Ari’s image.
“Really dead men tell no tales. You could always find him now and stake him. Get the job done, and the Protectors need never hear about your little slip.”
“You’re insane. I can’t kill anyone.” She buried her face in her hands. Only Avengers could kill another sentient being—Watchers were forbidden from taking a life. Telling Henry the truth was bad enough. But killing him? The Protectors would cook her goose for sure. And even if it wasn’t forbidden, all her training, her calling, was to save life. She couldn’t bring herself to kill anyone…especially not him.
“Look, kid, you got to lose your compulsion to follow the rules. Besides, he’s already dead. Technically, you wouldn’t be killing him.”
“I’m not mincing words with you.”
“Seduction or stake?” Ari said, gesturing as if weighing the options, one in each hand. “Seduction or stake, which will it be?”
“You really believe they’d order his death because of my mistake?”
“Look, Ciss, this is serious—there’s no telling what the Protectors will do when they find out.”
“They can’t. If they kill him, all hell will break loose. He dies, I’m done here. They’ll kick me off the Hill and no other community will accept me. They’ll be too suspicious.” She waved her arms in frustration. “Besides, Henry’s not going to say anything. I know he won’t.”
“Are you sure? Really sure? Hmm.” From the look on his face, she could see the wheels spin. “At least try flirting with him. Let him think he has a chance of getting you on your back.”
“Flirt?”
“Did you sleep through your human sexuality class?”
