Nightwalker

by Rhonda L. Print

  “Leah, this is Mouse.”

  Mouse? I thought Bear was cruel, but Mouse? Then I saw his ears, sticking just a little too far out of his long brown hair, and wondered if they had earned him his name. He stood straight, almost as if at attention. He was dressed in the same black uniform as Bear and the others in the hall. He was thin, almost lanky, except the corded muscles in his arms gave away his true strength. He was thin, not weak. He gave me a curt nod; then leaned back against the wall.

  “You have already met Bear.” Bear stood in much the same way as Mouse had when he was addressed. He bowed his head a little and smiled at me.

  “I have. Thank you for the help, guys.” Mouse nodded again.

  I raised one eyebrow sheepishly. “Sorry about the elbow jab, Bear.”

  “There is a lot of strength packed into your small package,” he commented dryly. “I was unprepared for it. However, no apologies are necessary.”

  I walked up to them, hand extended. Mouse shook mine and smiled. I turned to Bear. He hesitated, then took my hand. I felt energy vibrate up my arm. Bear scowled and released me.

  “What, exactly, do you do?” I was pretty sure they were Ian’s bodyguards. What I really needed to know was what the hell Bear really “was” and why Ian needed bodyguards.

  “They are my guards,” Ian answered.

  I eyed the men suspiciously. Mouse leaned against the wall. Bear stood with military attention, scowling.

  Ian nodded toward the men and they disappeared back through the doorway. “They will stand watch outside the door.”

  “They won’t do very well on their own if the demon returns,” I advised.

  Ian cleared his throat. “Let me pour you a drink and I will answer all of your questions. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “White, if you have it.”

  He motioned to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable, we have much to discuss.”

  The compulsion to touch him was unnerving. I settled myself onto the sofa. “I didn’t realize that the casino paid so well. Maybe I should consider a new line of work.” I watched him swagger across the room to the bar.

  “I pay my employees well and offer a handsome health plan as well.” He handed me a glass of wine.

  “Your casino? I thought only Native Americans were permitted to own the casinos?” I made it a question.

  “Legislation only specifies who may regulate it, not who may own it.” He sat on the chair opposite me.

  I considered that while I sipped my wine. “Damn. I guess you’re right. Still, Native Americans would not relinquish ownership lightly. How did you…”

  “I, how do you say, bankrolled the facility. I employee a majority of the tribe and do much to add to the infrastructure of the tribal lands. The council benefits financially from our arrangement, or, treaty, if you will.”

  I had been at the opening of the new high school with Joaquín. I guess I just assumed it was paid for by the tribe, kind of like tax dollars. “I thought Indian, sorry, Native American funds paid for the new high school?”

  He leaned forward, placing his arms on his knees. “You may call them Indians, they are not ashamed of their heritage. This was, after all, Indian Territory long before it was America.”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time on the rez with Joaquín. Political correctness isn’t usually one of my strong suits. I guess I’ve learned to be cautious.”

  “We did not come here to talk politics though, did we?” He stood and moved to sit beside me.

  “No, we didn’t. How did you know Zarendia?” I set my glass on the table. Time to get down to business.

  “How did you know her name?” Ian demanded.

  I took in a large breath and let it out slowly. Moment of truth time. “She told me.”

  “Ah”. He seemed to consider that for a moment then replied, “She was a guest in my home. She came here for my protection and I failed her.” A soft hint of sadness flashed in his eyes.

  I had to ask. I knew he’d heard me but the fact that Zarendia told me her name, after she was dead, didn’t seem to faze him much. I just had to ask. “You don’t seem surprised that she told me her name.”

  “I know what you are, Leah.”

  That sat me back in my seat. “What is it that you think I am, Mr. Nightwalker?”

  “Ahh, I have offended you. It’s back to Mr. is it? Do you deny that you are gifted?”

  “No.”

  “You are much more than gifted, though, aren’t you? I can feel your power. Do you even know the depths of it?”

  I stood. “I know who and what I am, Ian. What I don’t know is who the hell you are and what you have to do with a mutilated dead woman.”

  “She feared for her life. I offered her a safe haven. I did not know she was dead until I came across you and your police standing over her body.” The first tint of anger colored his voice, he looked away from me.

  I sat back down. “I am sorry, Ian. I tend to forget people’s feelings when I’m in the middle of a case.”

  He looked up at me. “No one has concerned themselves with my feelings in a long time, Leah. It is not emotions that concern me. Something killed her, violently, within the confines of my home and I didn’t sense it.”

  “How could you…”

  He stopped me by giving his full gaze to me. “You can see souls, Leah. Can you see mine?”

  I pulled my eyes away from him. “Who have you been talking too? Did Joaquín tell you this shit?”

  “Young Joaquín did not betray your secrets. He would not approve of you being here with me.”

  “I don’t give a shit what he would approve of and why do you keep calling him ‘Young Joaquín’. You look about the same age.”

  “Look into my soul, Leah. You will see that I am much older than he, and you.”

  The first twinge of fear crept up me. I see the souls of the dead but also the living. The eyes actually are the windows to the soul for me. I avoid direct eye contact with most people because of it. I can’t explain it exactly. The eyes hold an energy all their own. I have been able to “see” it my entire life. Sometimes it is in the form of a vision, others are just a feeling or thought. This gift, more than any other, helped to keep me safe when I was on my own on the streets. I could “see” whom to avoid by looking into their eyes. I broke myself of making direct eye contact after I came to live with Wilson and Alli. I wanted to live in the normal world, whatever the hell that was.

  “I can sense your fear. You have nothing to fear, Leah, for I do not have a soul to see.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I gave it away long ago.”

  “What are you?” I whispered.

  “Look and you shall see.”

  I stood and walked toward the door. “I came here for answers to my questions, not more riddles.”

  Ian stood and walked toward me. “Forgive me, Leah. I will answer your questions. Please, sit.” He motioned toward the sofa. I sat. “Zarendia was beginning a new life. She was … conflicted. She needed some time for reflection. She was to begin working in the casino next week.” He sipped his wine.

  “Does she have family?”

  “No.”

  “You mentioned that she feared for her life. Who was she afraid of?”

  He sighed heavily. “She was afraid of herself. She feared she would hurt herself.”

  “She was suicidal, then.” Someone seemed to have saved her the trouble but it was still murder. “What about friends, former co-workers?”

  “She was dead long ago to anyone who knew her.”

  “Well that clears everything up.” I let the sarcasm hang heavy. “Look, no more cryptic answers, Ian. I’m trying to help here.” I stood and began to pace.

  “I am not trying to be mysterious. I merely do not know if you will understand.” He sank back into the plush leather cushions of the sofa.

  “So you think I’m what? Stupid?”

  “No, of course not. I merely do not know what you would be willing to believe.”<
br />
  “I’ll believe the damn truth, Ian.” I stopped pacing and stood in front of him.

  He rose and placed his hands on my arms, just below my shoulders. “All that I will tell you is the truth, you have my word of honor on that. All I meant is that you may not be willing to believe it.” He drew down onto the sofa with me beside him.

  “If you’re asking me if I believe that there is more in this world than most people see, then yes, I not only believe, I know.” It was an admission I needed to make if I was to get the answers I needed. A trade-off, but one I could live with.

  Hopefully.

  “She was a shapeshifter, a wolf to be exact. She had heard that I lived in the desert and sought seclusion. She had been alone for a very long time, switching from human to animal form as needed to survive. She was attacked and infected by the bite of another shapeshifter many years ago. She awoke in the hospital several days later, unaware of changes about to take place. You can imagine her shock when she…” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “…transformed.”

  “On the full moon?”

  “The full moon is a Hollywood myth. There are no time restrictions on the shift, only the need to learn to control it.”

  I shook my head to clear it. “So it’s true then? Shapeshifting is an infection. Can it be cured?” I could feel my heart rate accelerate. I had taken every class in college associated with the paranormal but everything was based on history and theory. There had been no concrete realities, no living proof.

  He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “No, my love, it is not so simple.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “My love. That’s a little too personal for me, Ian. Let’s just stick with Leah, okay?”

  He held up his hands. “I did not mean to distress you. Shall I continue?”

  I sat back into the sofa, sweeping my hand in front of me. “By all means.”

  “As I was saying, there are no antibodies for this…” he seemed to struggle for the correct word, “condition. Once you are infected it is permanent. There are rules, however, that should have been followed to make her transition not so tragic.”

  “Rules?”

  “She should have been educated about her new life. She did not know who to turn to for instruction and the humans were no help.”

  “The shifter who turned her should have taught her how to be a wolf?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you could have taught her?” I licked my lips. Nervous? Not me.

  “Yes,” he answered simply.

  Aha. So now it was starting to make sense.

  “And which animal do you turn into?” I leaned forward toward him.

  Chapter Eight

  “I am not a shapeshifter, my love. I have, however, known many.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Did you murder Zarendia, Ian?”

  Ian raised his eyebrows at the question, looking slightly amused. “Do you think I am a killer, Leah?”

  I paused for a moment. Did I really think Ian was capable of doing that to another person? God I hoped not. The energy emanating from him had always been serene. I was sitting close enough that I could smell the scent of his skin, feel the warmth of his body. I needed only to lean closer to… I cut off the thought.

  Work. Focus Leah… Focus on work. Sure, that would pacify my hormones. Riight.

  I took a deep breath, all the while Ian sat patiently, an impassive and slightly amused look on his face, one dimple glinting at the corner of his mouth. He had the calmest aura of anyone I’d ever encountered, even the constant chatter in my own head calmed when I was with him. Violence and fury, at least the kind of rage that was used to kill these women never really cooled, it stayed red hot, a constant glow. It was always boiling just below the surface of the person containing it, releasing its own feel of aura.

  “No, Ian.” I felt the tension in my body ease. “I think you’re dangerous, but you’re not a killer.”

  “I appreciate you actually considering the matter.” His tone let me know that he could be sarcastic, too. Point for him.

  “Now that you know that I did not murder her, what avenue will you pursue?”

  “I still have tons of questions about you, Ian.”

  He spread his hands wide. “Ask away, my love.”

  “Stop calling me that, it’s irritating as hell.”

  “Again, my apologies. Can you, however, deny the attraction you feel toward me? I can feel your fascination.”

  I felt myself immediately tense again. He was right, and worse, he knew it. I felt the attraction between us, too. The question was, should I give in to it or learn to shield like hell to keep him from sensing it.

  Maybe both. While my hormones reminded me that I had not been with a man in months, months, my battered heart and head took control and reminded me why. Was my attraction to him simply a need that had been denied or was it truly him? It might have been fun to figure out the answer to that one. However, I didn’t know who or what he was. Only one way to find out.

  I opened myself to absorb his energy. It felt like a summer breeze, warm and soothing with something, I didn’t quite know what, but something … unlike anyone human or non-human that I’d ever encountered. Goose bumps rose along my skin.

  “What are you, Ian Nightwalker?”

  “You can see souls. You have only to look to know the answer.” He closed those few inches between us. His expression considering and expectant.

  I placed my hands on his face and gazed into his eyes, the dark, dark blue of them. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Points of lights that looked like stars in the night sky began to glow.

  “Your eyes? The first night I met you, when I awoke, it was your eyes that I saw, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. The soft stubble on his cheeks brushed against my hands as I held his face.

  I focused on his eyes, looked beyond the night sky in them to the place where the soul lives. The eyes see everything; they see what is outside and inside of us all. The eyes see our dreams, our nightmares, our hopes and fears.

  Our faces were inches apart and I caught the first glimpse of his soul. Some souls are bright, joyful. Others are dark, forbidding. Ian’s was as warm as the summer breeze of his aura.

  Images filled my mind. A young man laughing, happiness and peace surrounding him, standing with the moonlight glistening off him. He wore red breeches and a white linen shirt with ruffles at the lapel peeking out of a bright red waistcoat. His dark brown hair ruffled in the wind. He was holding the hand of a smiling, dark-haired woman who looked equally happy. She wore a yellow flowered gown with a tight bodice. Her cleavage strained at the top of her bodice. I didn’t know how the hell she could breathe in that thing.

  Just thinking “breathe” abruptly changed the image to one of the same couple, only the woman was lying on the ground, her clothes in tatters. The man by her side had agony clear in his distorted expression. Blood soaked the ground around him, the front of his white shirt was covered in crimson. His eyes looked up, as if he could see me or see through me.

  The same dark blue eyes in Ian.

  The effect was eerie and I flinched at the pain in his face and turned away. The woman’s chest was laid bare. The hollow where her heart should have been was empty except for loose tendrils scattered in odd directions and the blood. A cloaked figure appeared from the shadows and grabbed onto the grieving man from behind. The man, Ian, for there was no doubt now that it was him, stared at the shadowed figure as if in shock. The cloak-covered shadow obscured the top part of Ian’s chest. Ian clutched at him, struggling to free himself. I saw an evil, bloody smile flash large canine teeth from the pale face of the attacker. Ian’s body continued to wrench as the figure lowered those gleaming teeth toward him. Ian jerked violently, then went still, limp, as the figure held him close, covering Ian’s face with the darkness of the cloak.

  I pulled my hands away from Ian and stood. “It cannot be…” I stammered for the rig
ht words. “It can’t be you, Ian. The dress was too old, not this century. How?”

  A flurry of emotions crossed his face, so quickly that I would have missed them if I blinked. Confusion, pain, disbelief, suspicion marred his features. Then his face settled in a contented smile.

  “You could not have known that if you were a human.”

  I took a slight step back. “I am human,” I reiterated indignantly.

  “No…” he shook his head slowly, “…you are so much more than human.”

  He stood and took my face in his hands. Before I could protest he brushed his lips across mine.

  I should have protested. Truthfully, I didn’t want to. Hell, I’d wanted to kiss him since I’d first seen him tonight. I fell into the kiss. He accepted it for the invitation it was and the kiss deepened, became more demanding. His arms encircled me, his hands gently caressing my back. My arms slid along the expanse of his back and I held on to his broad shoulders as far up as I could reach. I gently slid my tongue across his lips and a small sound of pleasure grumbled from low in his throat. He tasted of the wine and underneath that, him, just uniquely Ian. His smell was intoxicating; it smelled like home, only a home I had never known before.

  My mouth suddenly filled with the sweet, coppery taste of blood. I pulled back from the kiss. Ian stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Intense emotion, it felt like a combination of fear and sorrow, flickered across his eyes.

  I didn’t feel pain immediately, like when you cut yourself with a really sharp razor, the pain is secondary. You know it’s coming; it just takes your brain an instant to catch up with the wound. I ran my finger across my tongue, it came away tinted with crimson. I looked at Ian questioningly. He stood silently while a flutter of emotions streamed through my mind. I don’t know what expression was on my face but Ian’s face fell perfectly blank. I knew the answer, knew the only explanation it could be. A glint of doubt crossed his eyes before he schooled it back to blankness, emotionless.

  “Oh shit.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Vampire.”

  Chapter Nine

  I stared up into his face. “I’ve felt vampire aura before, Ian, your energy isn’t the same.”