Key to Redemption

by Talia Gryphon

  Momentarily she bristled. She’d already agreed to accompaniment; his restating it over and over was getting on her nerves. It occurred to her abruptly he wasn’t really trying to be bossy. It was just him, being hundreds of years old and a fossil.

  “Aleksei, I promised I would be careful and take backup, but just this once. I don’t want to get used to someone else watching my back. It’s not healthy for me if I get complacent.”

  Sighing, he grasped he wasn’t going to win this in the long run. “Very well, bella, I understand, but I appreciate you agreeing to be careful.”

  Kissing her quickly, he was off to round up his own Vampires and attend to the problem. Gillian would have two very powerful beings with her in case there were more—What was the term she used? Oh yes, “fuckwits”—to contend with.

  Daed came downstairs willing to join the happy little group, all smiles. “Not going off to play hero with the big guy, darlin’?”

  “Daed, if you fucking start with me tonight, I will kick your ass back to Brasov. You’re along for PR as the Institute’s medical director, but what it comes down to is you are muscle in the event anything spills over. That’s it.”

  “Oh god, sugar, I love it when you say things like ‘comes,’ ‘muscle’ and ‘spill’ in the same sentence; gets me all hot.” He grinned wickedly at her. It was just too much fun to yank her chain.

  “You know, for a Freudian shrink, you have a lot of unresolved penis envy,” Gillian said glibly as she sauntered out with a grinning Trocar on her heels. Daed followed with a somewhat deflated look.

  CHAPTER 20

  THEY parked down the road from the Inn so as to orchestrate a better entrance for Gillian. Trocar got out and melted into the first available shadow, literally vanishing. Gillian had seen it before, but it never failed to amaze her how the Grael could become a piece of the darkness. The Dark Elf would enter the Inn and be the silent guardian for her meeting.

  Daed would walk directly in with her. If her patient was there, Daed would introduce himself as the medical director for the Rachlav Institute, then excuse himself as his cell phone rang in exactly ten minutes, courtesy of Pavel back at the castle.

  Gill finished her cigarette, stubbing it out in the car’s ashtray, and got out. Daed refrained from saying anything; she needed to focus on what she was doing. Damn Vampire boyfriend of hers ought to be on her ass about her smoking. Nah, probably didn’t care if she got cancer or emphysema; he could fix that for her.

  Together they walked directly into the Inn and into the bar. Gillian waved to Radu and they got seated in one of the circular booths in the corner to wait. Daed sat close to the edge of the bench, but Gillian scooted most of the way around to the middle. Close enough to be within Daed’s reach but far enough away that, when he left, she wouldn’t feel vulnerable.

  “Be careful, pumpkin. After that ordeal with Jack, Aleksei may be contending with one form of retaliation at the farm-house and you may be walking into another one. I’ve heard from Luis and Oscar that the Prince is not the forgiving type.” Daed was suddenly serious, and it tweaked her alarm bells.

  Laughing to cover up her nervousness that he might be right, Gillian shook her head. “I’m not worried. That individual has probably forgotten all about me by now. He doesn’t know how his sidekick died or who helped him along.”

  “Darlin’, you are the boob that fell out of Janet Jackson’s top, the bullet that shot J. R. Ewing and the pretzel that choked a president. You are not forgettable.”

  Sparkling black eyes winked appraisingly at her. Daed definitely was a handsome man . . . er . . . Shifter. Telling a Minotaur that he was full of shit when he was along to help out didn’t seem like the wisest course of action. Oh well, she never was the Princess of Tact.

  “Great! I’m a sex toy, a projectile and a snack! How kind of you to notice.” She propped her foot up, leaned back against the wall and cocked an eyebrow at him.

  Daed shook his head. “Snack maybe, but you have never been anyone’s toy, honey. I don’t think you qualify as a projectile unless you count your rapid-fire wit.”

  “Oh, touché, Dr. Aristophenes. I salute your smartassness. Now flash your gonads, and show me what else you got for Christmas.”

  Gillian snorted and Daed had to laugh with her. God, she was a pain in the ass but competent and funny. He had missed working with her and fighting with her.

  “Dr. Key?” The lush velvet voice turned both their heads. The man who stood by Gillian was nothing short of breathtaking. All conversation in the bar had stopped and people were staring. Even Daed felt a sensual jolt go disturbingly through him.

  Oh shit, Gillian thought. I hope neither of us starts drooling.

  Long hair that looked like spun black liquid silk hung over his shoulders to midway down his chest. He had the most remarkable eyes that she had ever seen. Glacial green, lightly hued but full of color at the same time: ice green, frost green, the cool welcoming green in the heart of an iceberg. Pale but ringed with a darker hue that emphasized the color perfectly.

  Those eyes were fringed with long, thick black lashes, a perfect frame for the two jewels they sheltered. Twin arches of onyx rising on his forehead were the backdrop for the beautiful orbs. His nose was straight and perfectly proportioned. His mouth was full, not feminine but sensual and tinged the most delicate of pinks.

  He was more slightly built than Trocar or Perrin and not quite as tall either—Gillian figured he was right about six feet—but his otherworldly beauty was over and above any Vampire she’d ever seen, including Aleksei. Hell, including Osiris and Dionysus, she realized in astonishment.

  His face and body seemed sculpted from the finest translucent alabaster, virtually glowing with an inner light. The green velvet tunic he wore was so dark it was nearing black; the color brought out his eyes, and it was difficult to look anywhere else but at him.

  He had a heavy linked chain of gold around his neck, which sported an emerald the size of a quarter that picked up the green of his tunic. Matching dark green velvet pants and dark brown calf-length boots completed the splendor. He looked like a cover model for the entire Reborn community or the poster boy for a “Get Your Own Vampiric Makeover” recruitment ad.

  The entire picture was enough to wrench a Human heart or bring a tear to a Human eye. He had been Human, Gill realized with a jolt, and must have been spectacular even in his day-walking years. The faintest of crow’s-feet by his eyes made her guess his Rebirth to have occurred around his Human age of forty.

  Her empathy was used to Vampirism and didn’t flare in response to his presence, but the level of sensuality he generated made her natural shields snap into place. All her exposure to Perrin had been good for fine-tuning that instantaneous reaction.

  “Yes, I’m Gillian Key.” She rose and held out her hand, which he took gently.

  “I am called Csangal, and would like to apologize for taking so long to get into contact with you.”

  Crap. Even his voice was spectacular: all low vibrating tones implying sweaty bodies entwined on silk sheets by candlelight. Bet he didn’t have a problem with finding prey. Not a comforting thought.

  “Chahn-gell?” Gillian asked, pronouncing it phonetically back to make sure she’d heard him correctly. “That’s a lovely name and there is no need to apologize. I am glad we are finally getting together.”

  “Thank you, I am pleased to meet you at last, Doctor.”

  “Me too, and please call me Gillian.” Turning to her companion, she introduced Daed. “This is Dr. Daedelus Aristophenes. He is our medical director at the Institute.”

  The two men shook hands. Daed had a strange expression on his face, sort of like lust combined with an “Oh. My. God. I’m feeling hot toward another man” expression. Daed wasn’t homophobic, but, being heterosexual, anything besides a female was a nonoptional choice.

  On cue, Daed’s cell phone rang. Damn, Pavel was on the ball as usual. Daed excused himself on the pretext of the phone call, leaving
Gillian alone with Csangal. He seated himself after she said he might, and settled into the spot that Daed had vacated.

  “You do not have to shield from me, Gillian.” Csangal spoke in tones meant only for her ears. “I am here as your patient, not to feed.”

  “It’s habit, I’m afraid. Spending as much time as I do around people like yourself, I have to, to keep my sanity.” She smiled at him, her best professional “you obviously don’t know who you’re dealing with” smile.

  Csangal’s smile literally lit up the booth they were in. Gillian fought to keep her jaw hinged just the way it was and not have it flop down to the table. Holy mother of the gods, he had been merely breathtaking before; now he transcended into the realm of wondrous, spectacular, inhuman . . . the word flashed in her mind. He was too lovely to be real, but there was no glamour. It was just his own special, regular Vampire du jour. Good thing he wasn’t trying to impress her. She didn’t think she’d survive it.

  “How kind of you to think of us as ‘people,’ Gillian. A great many Humans do not, you know. They prefer terms like ‘creature,’ ‘monster,’ ‘thing’ or ‘bloodsucker.’ The last of which, while accurate, is somewhat disappointing to dwell on.”

  What the hell had he been saying? Shit. She’d been so distracted by his sheer physical beauty that she hadn’t focused. Um . . . oh, yeah, “people.” Right.

  “If I didn’t, I couldn’t do my job properly. You’re sentient beings. A good number of you were Human once. The Sidhe weren’t, of course, nor the Elves, but they’re still people. I try to respect our similarities while remembering our differences. We all have moods; feel joy, sadness; have thoughts and ideas. All of us can act in either self-serving or altruistic ways. Paramortals have stress, anxiety, depression; you fall in love, suffers losses, have victorious moments.

  “Being Human, I try to remember that there are differences unique to each of the Paramortal cultures which don’t necessary coincide with a Human perspective on the same issues. I can’t bundle everyone up in the same box. I keep firmly in my mind what the perspective is of the patients I have. It makes group therapy interesting, to say the least.”

  Now it was her turn to smile. She realized that she’d been rambling. That wasn’t like her. Csangal was affecting her with his sheer presence. Double shit. Well, she’d get a better handle on it after one or two sessions with him.

  “Thank you, Gillian. I had a certain respect for your reputation before I came. It has been solidified even more so now. I believe that you will help me. Remain unbiased yet compassionate to my situation.”

  Crikey, he dropped his eyes for a moment, then turned the full force of their beauty on her. Gillian felt her IQ slip by several points. She had to watch it or she’d start babbling like an idiot again.

  “Perhaps if we began,” she said, getting her forms, paper and pen out. “If you could tell me what you’d like to focus on, that would be great. Oh, and I need a copy of your insurance card as well if you want us to bill for these sessions.”

  “I hope you have a bit of time, Gillian. This might take an hour or two to explain. And thank you for the offer, but I am a private, cash-paying client. I made the arrangements with Dr. Gerhardt to do it this way since I am a Romanian national and Count Rachlav or his brother might recognize me. I prefer to hold our sessions here at the Inn or perhaps we could meet elsewhere.”

  “That will be fine and please don’t worry about confidentiality. Here is a form for you to sign regarding that very thing. All patients, residents and staff are required to sign it and to abide by its rules. We have a less restrictive policy than most agencies as the Paramortal field is still growing and we occasionally have to utilize resources we may not realize we have.”

  Smiling that devastating smile again, he took the pen from her and signed “Csangal” where she indicated. He had ornate, elegant handwriting, she mused.

  “No last name?”

  “People of my era rarely used them unless you were from a noble house,” he replied, handing her back the pen and the forms.

  Two hours later, Gillian had everything she needed from Csangal. He was paranoid in the extreme, believing he was being targeted for murder by stalker or stalkers unknown. Another reason for his request for total secrecy. He had anger issues, some body dysmorphic problems, which she had found hard to believe at first, but he did—he was convinced there was something seriously wrong with his height. His sense of self, paradoxically, was fine, if you called bordering on megalomania “fine.”

  Csangal had Risen as a Master Vampire since his Rebirth, over six hundred years before, his extreme physical beauty lending itself to finding prey easily. He had amassed a lot of money over the years in various enterprises and traveled a great deal, leading the quiet life of the fabulously wealthy immortal. He didn’t like attracting attention to himself, the exception being with prey; kept little to no company with anyone; and generally spent his time researching ancient religious art and artifacts.

  What bothered him a great deal was that he said he could not name one person he considered an actual friend. He’d formed some rudimentary attachments to Humans and Paramortals alike over the centuries, but nothing had ever lasted. Everyone either died or just left him eventually. He wanted to share things with a confidant, a lover, just have someone to talk with.

  “Surely with this face, I would merit one friend, but alas, I am lonely and wish to form my own empire of loyal friends and fellow outcasts. Perhaps if I were less attractive, more would flock to me.” Those ice green eyes sparkled with his personal egocentric brand of humor, Gillian noticed.

  The contrast that popped into her mind unbidden was of Perrin. Sweet, kind, disfigured Perrin, who would sell his soul to have a whole face that matched his lovely Fey side so people would want to know him, and Csangal, who wanted to look a little less spectacular so others wouldn’t feel intimidated by his physical beauty. Egotistical bastard. Life really sucked sometimes.

  “What do you think, Gillian? Should I stage a coup for all the beautiful people of all the races in the world? Force the rest to accept us as their new icons?” He laughed warmly and reached a hand over to squeeze her arm in a gesture of camaraderie.

  Ye gods, his touch was electric and sent waves of his inherent sensuality skipping across Gillian’s nervous system. Ack! Shields! Shields! Well, hell, at least he was honest. She felt no deceit, no duplicity from him. Plus he had a great laugh. Oh yeah. A really great laugh.

  “I think we can fix it so you can live without your own fan club but still have a fulfilling life and gain some real friendships.” She chuckled with him.

  “I am delighted to hear that, truly.” He squeezed her arm another time, gently. “I must say farewell for now, and thank you, Gillian, for your time. May we meet again the night after tomorrow? I assume you will need time to process your reports.”

  “The night after tomorrow will be fine. I’ll meet you right here.” Gillian offered her hand, which he took. For one horrible moment she thought he might kiss it, since he took it much as a courtly gentleman would, but instead, he pressed it between his own hands.

  “I will be here then, at eight o’clock?”

  “Eight will be fine. Good night, Csangal.”

  “Pleasant evening, Gillian.”

  He rose with that extraordinary grace that all Vampires possessed, went through the doorway and up the stairs toward his room as she admired his stellar-looking backside while he climbed each step.

  Gill realized she was staring and shook herself mentally. Stop it. Stop it. The Vampi—man is a patient. She reached for the glass of water that Radu had placed earlier, dipped her fingers, then flicked the water in her face.

  No staring at non-sex therapy patients’ asses! she admonished herself sharply. Oy vey. This was going to be difficult. Csangal was a phenomenal Vampire, and it wouldn’t do for her to be drooling all over his soft, yummy boots.

  “I can get some ice from Radu and deposit it down your pants if you
like, Petal.”

  The sudden voice made her heart leap in her chest. Trocar. Asshole Elf. Odin’s hells, where had he come from?

  “Although the ripe blush on your lovely face is most stimulating.”

  Gillian palmed her face. “Blessed Hathor, I couldn’t help it. Did you see him? Look at him?”

  “Indeed I did. You are correct; this one is truly remarkable. He rivals even the Elves and the Fey in their beauty.” He slid in beside her, putting his arm around her and pulling her close.

  She peered at him from between her fingers. Trocar wouldn’t be flirting, he just couldn’t be. “What the hell, Trocar?”

  In response, he turned his equally devastating megawatt smile on her and caressed her cheek with his obsidian-hued finger, leaning his head toward her in a conspiratorial manner.

  “We must leave, Gillyflower. The Vampire’s visage and touch have left you quite ripe for the picking. I caught your scent as I came into the bar, and I believe the various other night walkers are making the same observation. You are advertising your need for sex with your scent, blush and body, Captain. I am staking my claim so the others will not bother you as we leave.”

  Sliding out of the bench, Trocar pulled her along with him, keeping her tight against his side. As she scooted out, she was treated to a significant bulge in the Dark Elf’s leather-clad groin.

  No, no, no . . . Trocar would never be so blatant or déclassé as to allow himself an erection in a public place, especially because of her. She peeked again; yes . . . yes he did. Bigger than Dallas and twice as obvious. Great. Just great.

  Gillian was blushing furiously as she climbed out and swept her arm around his slender waist, not knowing how to argue this one with him. He was right. Csangal had some powerful sex foo going on there, and despite how much she’d blocked, some of it had leaked through. Speaking of leaking . . .