by Kasi Blake
Someone was playing the piano. Well, maybe playing wasn’t the right word for it. They were pounding on the keys, forcing a haunting melody from the strings inside. The same notes repeated with short intermissions. Bay-Lee was drawn down the seemingly endless corridors of Van Helsing’s castle, her mouth dry. She was physically and emotionally exhausted.
It was late afternoon, and she’d slept a ridiculously long time. Waking in her old room—still wearing yesterday’s clothes— in the bed she used during her summer visits was comforting. Familiar walls and linen filled her with reassuring warmth. At least she’d known where she was at when she opened her eyes. It took a while for her to reconnect with the ‘why.’
Then it all came flooding back with the blunt force of a sledgehammer. Tessa was dead, murdered, and she’d found the body. After that, things got a little fuzzy. She vaguely remembered Nick carrying her to the castle and Van ordering him to put her in the guest room she always used.
The music grew louder with every step she took. It thundered, echoing throughout the maze of dimly lit stone corridors. She’d be lost if she hadn’t spent months in the castle exploring when she was supposed to be studying. She was getting closer to the music. Another turn, another ten feet, and she found the room of its conception. The thick door only managed to slightly muffle the angry sound of the piano. She pushed it open and peered inside, curious. A soft gasp parted her lips, but the sole occupant couldn’t hear her over the deafening noise.
Nick sat at the concert grand piano (Van always bought the best) in his black trousers and no shirt, his bare back glistening with perspiration as if he’d just run a ten mile race. Bent over the keys, his hands lifted and came down again and again. His fingers flew over the ivory with what could only be described as pure genius. Every once in a while he stopped, grabbed a pen, and jotted something in the open notebook on top of the piano. She surmised Nick was writing a song.
Bay-Lee shut the door behind her, careful to be quiet. She took a few steps forward, hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. The half-written song was beautiful. She could listen to him play forever. Her own problems forgotten, she allowed her eyelids to drift shut. The music rumbled through her entire body, becoming a part of her.
Fists slammed against the keys, startling her. She jumped and her eyes popped open. Nick hadn’t turned around, but somehow he knew she was there. “What do you want?” he asked in a voice that sounded scraped raw.
“N-nothing.” Flustered, she stumbled over the word.
Nick stood and faced her with a wary expression. “Did you sleep?”
How did he do that, hostile one second and caring the next? It seemed to be a gift, coming as naturally to him as breathing, but it drove her crazy. She pondered the question with her fuzzy brain. In truth, she felt more tired now than she had last night. If she’d gotten any rest, it had been brief bursts of dreamless sleep. Since it was obvious Nick wanted an answer, she shrugged. “I guess I must have.”
Her gaze dropped to his exposed chest. If a boy could have a perfect body, Nick did. Every inch of his golden skin seemed to be carved out of smooth marble. Her curious gaze settled on the tattoo over his heart. Black ink, it spelled out the name of his band in bold, masculine letters with a star set between them—Bad*Rock—and a swirl beneath the words that scrolled up on both ends.
Instead of taking away from the perfection of his body, the artistry of the tattoo added to it.
Her gaze automatically searched the rest of his exposed flesh for more.
“Take a picture,” he said, clearly irritated by her interest. “It’ll last longer.”
Her cheeks caught fire. “I... uh, was just admiring your tattoo. Do you have others?”
“Only one, but you can’t see my Van Helsing tattoo without a black light.”
She blinked. “What?”
An amused twinkle appeared in his eyes. He seemed to delight in her ignorance on the subject of hunters. In explanation he said, “When you move up in rank and it becomes obvious you’re going to make a career of hunting, they give you a special tattoo. It’s a spiraled circle with a VH on it, VH for Van Helsing. It’s like he’s marked us as his property.” The last part was said with a grimace. “I was against it at first, but it comes in handy when I’m on the road. We use it to recognize each other in the field. Anyone can say they’re a hunter. A monster from the other side could pretend to be one of us, but they wouldn’t have the tattoo to back up the lie.”
Nick pulled what appeared to be a tiny silver flashlight from his pocket. It was connected to his key chain. He turned it on and focused the black light on his lower arm. A bluish tattoo shimmered on his skin. The twisted leather band around his wrist partially covered the design. Bay-Lee couldn’t take her eyes off it. She tentatively reached out to touch it. Nick snapped the flashlight off, returned it to his pocket, and put distance between him and her.
“I suspect you’ll get one of your own soon enough,” he said.
“Does it hurt? When they put it on you? Is it painful?”
He stared at her for a moment as if he was weighing the emotion behind her words and trying to figure out if she was afraid of a little pain. “It doesn’t hurt any worse than a regular tattoo.”
“Does every hunter have to get one?”
“It’s one of Van’s rules. What’s wrong? Having second thoughts about joining us?”
Not exactly. In reality Bay-Lee had never wanted to join them in the first place. Her plan was simple. After she was trained well enough to track and kill a pack of miserable werewolves, she was going to buy a boat and sail around the world. Maybe she’d live on the water permanently. The best thing about living at sea was the fact there weren’t any monsters.
“I don’t like tattoos.” She blushed when his smirk silently reminded her that she’d been admiring his only a moment ago. “I mean, I don’t like them on me. It’s like being branded, and I am not a damn cow.”
“Well you can probably cry to daddy about it, and he’ll make an exception for you. The rest of us don’t get a choice.”
Allowing his mocking accusation to pass, she asked, “Did Tessa have one?”
His half-nod was brisk, bordering on reluctant.
Wrapping her arms around her own body, she said, “I can’t believe Tessa is gone. Who would want to hurt her?”
“Van has people searching both sides of the border for that information.” He gestured to the castle around them. “Stay here. This is more your home than mine. Why don’t you move in? I’ll get a dorm room.”
Van didn’t want her living under his roof. Of course Nick was under the impression Van was her father and she wasn’t allowed to set him straight. “I’m fine where I am. I’m not going to run away and hide.”
“You shouldn’t have to go back to that room after what you saw last night.”
“Hey, I’m a hunter. I’m tough.”
“You aren’t a hunter yet,” he reminded her gently. “You’re still Bait.”
She squared his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Not for long.”
He went to the other side of the large room and retrieved a discarded black T-shirt. He slipped it over his head while she went to the piano. Her fingers tapped out a few notes. She envied his ability to play the instrument and write his own music. As a kid she’d wanted to take lessons, but they moved around too much. Besides, as Connor pointed out on numerous occasions, monsters could track her easier if she had an obsession. They needed to stay on their toes, constantly changing their likes and dislikes.
It was a lonely life.
“Why did you grow up here?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “Was it because your mom tried to kill you?”
Nick swallowed hard, eyes unblinking. His jaw tightened and his mouth remained stubbornly shut. He wasn’t going to give her any information about himself. If she wanted to know, she’d have to
ask somebody else. It was obvious her question made him angry, so she let it go.
“Forget it,” she said. “I just thought we might have something in common.”
A bark of humorless laughter parted his lips. “Seriously? You and I don’t have any common ground. None. Nada. So stop trying to find some. We are not going to be friends or partners or lovers or whatever it is going on in your head. I will mentor you for as long as I feel like it. Then we’re done.”
Strictly business. She wondered if Van had talked to Nick about keeping things chilly between them. The promise she’d made to her pretend-father reared its ugly head. Nick was right. They weren’t going to be friends because she had to keep her word to Van. She forced a harmless smile. “Sounds good to me. Where do we start?”
He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed the back of his neck as if he was hoping she’d disappear and he wouldn’t have to deal with her. “I’ll meet you in the library this afternoon. Bring your books and we’ll make a study plan.”
She nodded while backing out the door. Even though Nick Gallos had a way of making her feel like a three-year-old with a wet sucker stuck in her hair, he was exactly what she needed. He was going to train her without excuses, without emotional baggage, and without apologies. Nick was going to help her get the revenge her broken heart craved.
