by Jenna Barwin
“What did Rolf think of my proposal?”
“I only gave it to him tonight. With the shooting—”
“Oh, don’t apologize. You had responsibilities. I’ll call you in a few nights, see how it’s going.”
He excused himself, and instead of catching up with winery business, he returned home and rode his motorcycle up the mountain trail behind his house until the road became too rocky, and then hiked the rest of the way. The mountain overlooked the valley. From it, he could see the gently rolling hills covered by vineyards, each homestead lit up with shaded floodlights. Bud break had occurred and the vines were rapidly greening up. Under the bright full moon, it looked like someone had taken a heavy rake and dragged a sweeping arc across a layer of green paint, allowing the dark brown underneath to show through. He turned his back on the view and faced the mountain’s dark forest, sitting down on a bench.
Carved into the gray granite of the bench was a date. He traced the year with his finger. 1889. The year he’d killed Nathaniel over a woman. He had carried the heavy bench up there himself, refusing any help, even though it broke something in his back when he did it, the stone’s weight too much even for his vampire strength. A small penance, one of many he’d paid over the years, unable to earn absolution.
He closed his eyes and flattened his hand against the bench, the stone cold and unliving. The bench stood as a reminder of what he truly was and why he could never allow himself to love again.
He opened his eyes again. Instead of seeing the pine trees in front of him, he saw only darkness, the darkness of the abyss. He had enjoyed kissing Cerissa far more than he should have. His desire to see her again chilled his soul with a dark fear. The darkness murmured in his ear: You will never overcome the evil you are—you will only bring death.
What was he thinking? He should be doing everything he could to get her away from the Hill. Gone, she would no longer tempt him. Gone, she would no longer threaten the Hill. Gone, he would return to the loneliness he deserved.
He traced the stone-carved year with his finger, feeling sucked in. He couldn’t afford to fall in love with her. Whatever he loved, he destroyed. He had chosen Erin because he had never loved her—it was safer for everyone if he didn’t love his mate.
He buried his face in his hands. Maybe he should stay here until dawn and let the sun’s rays kill him. There was no other way to cleanse the earth of his unforgivable sin.
He shook his head, dislodging the thought. Destroying himself wasn’t a solution—it left his community ignorant of the potential threat. He touched the matrix card tucked in his pocket. Why had he agreed to keep secret what she’d told him? Sure, her aura had affected him, but it wasn’t what caused him to remain quiet. In spite of his words, he could tell when she stopped using it on him. Yet he had felt drawn to her, compelled to kiss her.
He couldn’t tell Rolf about her. Rolf’s distrust of the envoy had doubled overnight. Rolf would never keep her secret—he would shout the truth from the rooftops, and the whole council would know.
If I told Rolf, I wouldn’t be able to stop the disaster that would follow. And then there were Tig’s suspicions about Rolf—another reason to stay silent for now.
I should tell Yacov instead. Yacov can be trusted to keep what she is secret. Then, if something happens to me, the community will know about the Lux. But so far, he hadn’t been able to pick up the phone.
Was he so broken that a pretty girl with a sympathetic story could tempt him to sacrifice the safety of the Hill? Yet she was more than just a pretty girl—she was smart and brave and put his welfare above her own.
He had to think. Her scheme to bring a new blood supply to the treaty communities—did it hide a way to poison all of them, to rid the world of vampires for good? Even though he wanted to trust Cerissa, her people may not be so benevolent. It wouldn’t be the first time a beautiful female was used to lure the male. Coyotes did it all the time—he’d watched them, watched the calculated way the pack sent a bitch in heat to draw a male dog from the safety of his yard, and right into the jaws of the pack. After all, the pack had to eat.
He slipped the matrix card out of his pocket and looked down at it. Then he looked up at the dark sky, the stars shining with a deepening intensity. He wanted her, wanted her like the male dog he was. He just hoped her pack wasn’t waiting to rip apart the community he’d spent his long life building.
Chapter 28
Hill Community Center—the next night
“I have a silver bullet pointed at your heart,” he said, aiming a gun just above Henry’s breastbone.
Henry looked at the gun and then at the shoulders of his opponent. Always watch the shoulders. The shoulders told you what would happen next. Moving rapidly, he stepped to the side while pushing the man’s gun arm toward the ground, holding it there with his full strength. With his free hand he punched repeatedly in the direction of the man’s face and reached down to grab the butt of the gun, twisting it out of his assailant’s hand.
“Good job, my friend,” Yacov said. “Let’s take a break, shall we?”
Henry agreed, grabbing a towel off the pile the Hill gym provided. Yacov made a good sparring partner. Judo, Krav Maga, taekwondo, even boxing—he’d practiced just about every martial art with Yacov. Vampire speed and strength gave him an advantage, but nothing substituted for real skill. He removed his heart shield, a harness with a steel and leather center, which protected his heart from accidental impalement while they sparred.
Yacov’s wife had been watching them from the spectator area. She was in her mid-thirties, but reminded Henry of an old soul. A headscarf, which she wore for religious reasons, covered her long brown hair. Yacov offered him a chair, and they joined her, forming a small circle.
“I’ve been waiting patiently for you two to finish,” Shayna said, returning her crochet work to a basket on the floor, carefully folding a half-finished shawl. “Now I want to hear all about the shooting.”
Henry used the towel he held to wipe sweat from his forehead before draping it over one knee. “There isn’t much to tell. We were horseback riding when a sniper fired at me. Leopold’s envoy got in the way.”
“Is she all right?” Yacov asked.
“She was doing well when I dropped her off at Gaea’s last night. I tried to stop by tonight to check on her, but Gaea turned me away at the door. She didn’t think Cerissa was up for visitors yet.”
“And the shooter?”
“Dead.”
“Any idea who’s behind it?” Shayna asked.
“I’m sorry, no.”
Yacov patted his wife’s hand. “Shayna is still worried over what happened to me.”
“It’s terrible, that’s all.”
“I understand,” Henry said. “We’ve always felt safe here, until now.” And Cerissa’s people upped the threat level—not that he’d tell Yacov that. Last night, he’d made up his mind to stay silent. “Tig asked me to make a list of all persons who might want me dead. Perhaps we begin with our time on the town council?”
“I know, I know,” Yacov replied. “I owe her an answer too. She asked me for the same list.” Yacov did the math out loud: “We were on the council, what, eighty years?”
“Eighty-four.” Henry tied back his ponytail, which had become undone while they sparred. “It’s easy to anger people when you’re making decisions affecting their lives.”
Shayna stared at him in disbelief. “You think it’s someone who didn’t like a council ruling? You both resigned from the council back in the seventies. That’s a long time for someone to carry a grudge.”
Not a long time when it came to vampires, but he didn’t want to upset Shayna. “Tig also wants a list of those we turned down for residency.”
“There is that, isn’t there?” Yacov agreed.
He and Yacov still sat on the board of directors for the homeowners’ association, which controlled who could live on the Hill. Henry took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfol
ded it. “Counting only the requests we’ve turned down, the number is over twenty-five.”
“But you and I didn’t always vote the same way on those matters.”
“That’s why the number is only twenty-five. It would be much higher if I’d included those we differed on.” He handed the list to Yacov and pointed to four names on the list, each starred in red. “Those four have made recent requests for residency.”
“Tig should be able to work with those names,” Yacov said. “Are there any other decisions we should consider, ones that might incite a grudge?”
“Requests to turn a lover are probably a close second.”
Yacov frowned. “But requests to make someone a vampire would have gone to the town council. They wouldn’t be a board decision.”
“True. Denials we were involved with would be much older decisions.”
“I see it as a double-edged sword,” Yacov said, holding up two fingers. “Some would be angry because their request was turned down and their mate ultimately died, and others would be angry because their request was granted and it didn’t turn out well.”
“As a group, we can be delusional,” Henry agreed. “To imagine it will be different, that a maker and the vampire they sire will remain in love for all eternity, when most evidence points to the contrary.”
“Never underestimate the power of the vampire mind to mislead one into folly. Did you make the second list yet?”
“No.”
“Then let me,” Yacov said. “Is there any other group we should include from our time on the council?”
“We might include those we ordered staked, to see if any relatives are still alive and vengeful.”
“I’ll take care of that third list too. I have extra time on my hands, since I won’t be traveling to Los Angeles anytime soon.”
“No you will not,” Shayna said, folding her arms across her chest.
“And you wonder why I have never been married,” Henry said lightly.
“That’s the problem, my friend. You have only known the institution from the outside. Once you have been married, you will know its true value.” Yacov took his wife’s hand lovingly, unwinding her crossed arms.
“Perhaps you are right,” Henry said, mostly to be polite.
“Someday you’ll have the courage to find out.”
He doubted he would. Even his sudden attraction to Cerissa wouldn’t overcome his doubt. “There is another possibility we should discuss. The person behind the attacks may live on the Hill.”
“Not something I like to consider,” Yacov replied.
“But it is something Tig raised.” Henry shifted in his chair, his fingers reaching for his crucifix. “Please don’t tell anyone I asked this. Have you ever had any trouble with Rolf?”
“You mean because he was a Nazi and I’m a Jew?”
“I don’t like posing the question, but yes, that is the question.”
Yacov stroked his beard, intense in his concentration. Finally, he released the wavy end and pointed in Henry’s direction. “You see, it’s like this. When Rolf first came to the Hill, he became involved in public service, do you remember?”
“Yes, vaguely.”
“He worked closely with me on the subcommittee when we designed the new country club. He was always respectful at those meetings, no indication of any problem. But then, why should he have a problem with me? As I got to know him, I learned he was conscripted into the military—he hadn’t joined the Nazis voluntarily.”
“He told me the same story.”
“Over the years, Rolf has remained cordial,” Yacov said, looking pensive for a moment, “although at times he seems jealous of our friendship.”
“Aside from that, you have detected no prejudice?”
“None,” Yacov said. “And once I thought about it, I realized I shouldn’t be so surprised. We have managed to do something here on the Hill mortals have not.”
“And what is that?”
“Look around you.” Yacov swept his hand out like he was surveying the Hill. “Vampires from every continent, of every skin color, live on the Hill. Both men and women. Race, nationality, religion, gender, and sexual orientation—they don’t matter here.”
“Of course,” Henry said. “We have transcended those surface differences. Here, we are all equals.”
Shayna shook her head. “You two are missing the point. You haven’t created an egalitarian society. You’ve just changed who’s at the top of the patriarchal pyramid.”
Henry furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
“My wife should join the committee on mortal rights, but she refuses,” Yacov said.
“I don’t like to argue,” she said with a shrug. “Haley and Nicholas will do a good job representing all of us.”
Will they now? He bit his tongue to stop from saying it out loud. Tig had mentioned the committee two nights ago, but after learning about Cerissa’s origins, the conversation he intended to have with Yacov had slipped to the bottom of his mental to-do list.
“You’re leaving Henry in a quandary, dear heart. Go ahead, tell him your thoughts.”
Shayna motioned with her hand, as if she were pointing at something above her head. “Under a traditional patriarchy, white men are at the top of the pyramid. They make the rules and control the rest of us—we’re at a lower rung on the pyramid.” She lowered her hand. “You’ve just changed it so vampires are at the top and in control in this community.”
“But we built this community to protect mortals.”
Yacov’s eyes cautioned him. “You’ve stepped into it now.”
“‘Protection’ is part of the patriarchal myth,” Shayna continued. “‘Benevolent protection’ isn’t possible. It just feeds your belief system: vampires are predators, mortals are prey; vampires are strong, mortals are weak; vampires are smart, mortals are easily fooled; the list goes on and on. And each belief on your list justifies your attempt to retain power and control. As long as you keep thinking that way, you’ll never build the egalitarian society you think you have.”
“Then why do you stay?” Henry asked.
“I have what I want,” she said, looking at Yacov. Her face softened as she smiled at her husband. “Sometimes what you want, and what you think you should want, are entirely different things. I was raised in a patriarchal culture, and it’s so much a part of me, it’s what feels normal—but it doesn’t mean I’m blind to the ramifications.”
“I never knew you felt this way.”
Shayna shrugged. “Why talk about it? Yacov treats me with respect. As do you, for the most part. I’ve preferred to have peace at home rather than stir things up, but I do see it. Hill vampires are paternalistic when it comes to the mortals you bring here. You see us as something to objectify and master—to serve your needs.”
“But mortals are treated well on the Hill,” Henry said. This was his community. He’d been a key player in creating it. An attack on it was an attack on him.
“Henry, I don’t want to argue with you, but you’re making my point,” Shayna said. “Vampires see mortals as the ‘other’ to be taken care of and treated well. It’s built into the Covenant—a document written without our involvement.”
“But—”
“The person who controls the discourse exercises power—and power on the Hill is exercised by vampires.” She sighed. “I’ve taken us far afield, and I didn’t mean to. You were asking Yacov about Rolf. Did you have a reason for asking?”
He shifted in his chair, his stomach uncharacteristically churning. He respected Yacov and his mate. The Hill had been set up to protect the mortals who were brought here, as well as serve vampire needs. How could that be wrong?
“Henry?” Yacov prompted.
“Rolf, yes, well. I don’t know how to say this gracefully. Tig asked if Rolf might be behind the shootings.”
“Why would Tig think that?”
“Because Rolf is my current heir, he might have something to gain from my de
ath. I’ve been thinking about it since she suggested it, and I don’t know what to believe.”
“My friend, what does your gut tell you?” Yacov asked, tapping his stomach.
“Rolf would never do anything to harm me.”
“That is your answer,” Yacov said. “Trust your gut to know what is right.”
Chapter 29
Cerissa’s room—the next morning
Cerissa contemplated her breakfast, which Dylan had delivered to her. One week since her arrival on the Hill, and she’d managed to get herself shot, confessed her origins to a founder, and was now stuck in bed, unable to pitch her project or gather intelligence.
She couldn’t have screwed up worse if she’d tried.
Last night, Gaea had refused to allow Henry to visit her. Why not? A visit would have hurt nothing. She had to stay in contact with him, to ensure he kept his promise. In spite of his demand that she stop using her aura to persuade him, she couldn’t let her enchantment of him fully wear off. A little charm wouldn’t hurt…or maybe something more?
No, she couldn’t seduce him to buy his silence. It wouldn’t be fair. I mean, that is why I want to seduce him…right? To buy his silence?
With his visit thwarted, the room seemed to close in on her. The heavy drapes, frilly floral comforter, and lace doilies were the trappings of a feminine jail, but a jail nonetheless. And that was after only one day in bed. How would she feel if her confinement went on much longer?
Well, at least she had plenty of food. She dug into her scrambled eggs before they got colder. Dylan’s voice suddenly interrupted the silence.
“Hey, Cerissa,” he said, standing at her open door. He carried two flower arrangements into her room.
“For me?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Your name is on the cards.”
“Ah, okay. Please put them over there,” she said, pointing at the glass table by the window.
Once he was gone, she moved her breakfast tray aside and slid out of bed, reaching for the cards. The first one was from Zeke. He’d sent a dozen pink roses and wrote, “Missing you,” on the card. The stunning arrangement of blood-red orchids, intertwined around tall green reeds, had to be from Henry. She opened his card and laughed at his dry sense of humor—the card wished her a speedy recovery.
