by Faith Hunter
Confusion engulfed me. “A woman? Who? I don’t know any women from back then. Not who are still alive.”
“Alive or dead is a fluid thing these days, my Rose. What grim’s hand would be strong enough to pluck a flower in its prime?”
I saw only the flick in his eyes to the spot behind me to warn me of danger I hadn’t even heard over the music oozing from the bar. I had but an instant to glance behind me, to catch sight of the bartender’s face, before I felt a needle-sharp pain in my back.
The world went black, and gravity called me home.
—
I awoke to pain. A lot of it, and spread across my body. My vision was blurred, my head pounding, and I could taste blood.
Slowly, the world stopped spinning, and fabric came into focus.
The jeans I was wearing. I was sitting in a chair, looking down at my legs, my head hanging limp from my shoulders. My feet were below me, manacled by an impressive chain to a bare concrete floor that was dotted with blood, probably mine.
My shoulders ached, and my fingers were numb. My hands were behind me, my wrists tied together tightly behind the chair. Multiple zip ties if the biting pain was any indication.
I looked up and blinked back spots. A standing light was pointed at my face like an interrogation scene in a movie Luc would have enjoyed a little too much—and probably quoted from afterward.
Longing filled me, but I pushed it down.
First, stay alive, I told myself. Then you can think about feelings.
I heard shuffling ahead of me. “Hello? Who’s there?”
No one answered, but I heard what sounded like a children’s lullaby.
“Be still and sleep, my child,” she sang. “Be still and sleep, my child. For if you wake, the monsters will take you right to the Rookery.”
I squinted through the light at the darkness ahead, trying to gauge shapes and distances. “Who’s there? Show yourself. Danny? Is that you?”
But it wasn’t Danny. She stepped into the light, and the nightmare deepened. It was Iris, and too much the same as I’d last seen her.
Like a supernatural version of Miss Havisham, she appeared not to have changed clothes in decades. Her dress was torn, the fringe missing and bare in spots like an animal with mange. Her hair was flat and matted, and dotted with paste-jewel clips and brooches. Her skin was scarred and twisted, pocked in spots where bullets had undoubtedly penetrated.
Had she been here, in this place, for nearly a century? Hiding from the world, reliving what she’d seen? Had the violence, or her experience of it, sent her into madness? Not so mad, perhaps, that she couldn’t make a deal with the devil, pay Danny and his cronies to lure me here.
However she’d done it, how hadn’t I known? How hadn’t I saved her?
“Iris,” I said breathlessly, my mind suddenly whirling, a decade of history being rewritten, and guilt quickly piling up. “You’re alive.”
“And so are you, I see.” She reached out and slapped me, hard. My cheek sang with pain, and I tasted fresh blood again.
“I was in the priest hole,” I said. “I’d been looking for the brandy, remember?”
“You left me there. You left her here. And you walked out like you were something really special. Just the absolute bee’s knees.”
She threw a copy of the magazine at me. “All this time, you little bitch, I thought you were dead. Come to find out you were in Chicago. Hiding out and showing off. Showing your nice little tits for the camera. You left us there to die!”
“I thought everyone was dead, Iris. Everyone was dead.” Still, I searched my memory for any clue that I’d been wrong, that I’d left her there to be found by Danny O’Hare, or to crawl out alive. But I found nothing. There’d been only the smell of death, the absolute stillness of it, and the tinny sound of sirens in the distance.
I’d made a mistake. But Iris didn’t much care.
She slapped me again, this time from the other direction. My eyes watered from the sting.
“Tonight we’re going to replay that night.” She stepped out of the light, and I heard the glug of liquid flowing from a bottle. I sniffed and smelled alcohol.
The light dimmed as she stepped in front of it and tossed a glass of booze in my face. Gin, I thought, smelling it as it dripped into my eyes and cuts I hadn’t yet seen, sending a new surge of pain through already stressed nerves.
“Alcohol,” she said. “For remembering. The devil’s drink, which you enjoyed time and time again. And now you’ll be punished for it.”
She disappeared again, and my heart began to race. If she meant to replay that night, had she gotten a gun? Did she plan to shoot me here and now, like an animal?
Adrenaline swamping me, I shifted back and forth against the manacles at my feet and the ties that bound my hands. But neither budged.
I’m officially in a tight spot, I thought, wishing I’d gotten more of Luc’s lecture on evasive maneuvers before this particular crisis had begun.
“You were oblivious,” she said, stepping in front of me again, this time holding a feathered hair clip in her hand. She moved forward and pushed it into my hair, scraping my scalp in the process.
“I bet you didn’t even know that I loved Violet.”
I worked to concentrate against the pain. “Violet? You two . . . ?
“Were in love,” she said. “Not that you’d notice, busy as you were flirting and whoring with every man you could find. Another reason why you have this coming.”
I guess Iris hadn’t thought much of my life choices.
“I’m sorry she died, Iris. But I didn’t know she was alive. I didn’t know anyone else was alive. I thought everyone was dead. We were best friends. Do you really think I wouldn’t have come back for you if I’d known? That I wouldn’t have helped you out of there?”
She looked momentarily confused, and I thought I was getting through to her. But the haze of trauma and madness settled upon her eyes again.
She leaned forward. “You. Are. Lying. Everything that happened to me is your fault. It has to be.”
And there it was. She wanted someone to blame, even if there wasn’t cause for it. Even if she could understand what had actually occurred.
She’d gotten me here, and there was no doubt she intended to end the story tonight. But I needed time. Time to come up with a plan, and time to get free.
“You paid Danny?” I asked, trying to keep her busy while I struggled against the binding on my wrists. I could feel the plastic slicing into my skin, but pain was irrelevant. Survival was the only thing that mattered.
“Danny O’Hare’s a right son of a bitch,” she said, spitting onto the floor beside me. “He doesn’t much care what happened in the bar that night—the past is past to him—but he’s always willing to take a coin. So he found me a man, and that man did a deed. It took every last penny I’d scrimped and saved to make him take on the task, powerful as you are now. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? Because here you are.”
She moved closer, and I saw the glint of steel in her hand. A handgun, 9mm. I had little doubt she would empty it into my body, and that would probably be only the beginning of her plans for me.
Unfortunately, vampire strength notwithstanding, my restraints weren’t budging.
I’d been a vampire a long time, and I’d faced death before. I hadn’t often regretted much. But now, this time, I regretted. I’m sorry, Luc, I silently thought, sending the words across miles, as if he could hear me. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I love you. I love you more than anything.
The tears began to fall in earnest, but I wasn’t a coward. I looked up at Iris, met her gaze head-on.
Her hand shook, and she pointed the gun at me. “And now we’ll be even,” she said.
Shots rang out like explosions, and I instinctively braced for impact.
But I fe
lt nothing.
Shocked to the core, I looked down. Spots of blood appeared on Iris’s dress, and she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach.
“Lindsey?”
That was Luc’s voice.
Dear God, it was Luc. He was here. He’d come for me.
He appeared behind her, in his uniform of jeans and boots, and when the gun clattered to the floor, he kicked it away and out of her reach.
“Jesus, Linds!” Luc raced to me, cupping my face in his hands and pressing his lips to mine. He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and dabbed at what I assumed was blood on my face. “You like to cut it close.”
At the same time, four men in black suits walked calmly inside. The one in front, who had a long, severe face and was reholstering the gun that had floored Iris, nodded at Luc. They picked her up, more gently than I might have, and began to escort her out of the room.
“Who was that?” I asked, perplexed, as Luc worked the manacles and zip ties.
“New York’s sup department. They have that business tied down.”
“Have them check the Green Clare, find Danny,” I said. “Ensure this is done. That Rachel’s safe.”
“Guys?” Luc said.
“On it,” said the long-faced man.
I looked down at Luc on his knees beside me, and could hardly fathom the fact that he was here, how lucky I was that he’d come, that I had a second chance, that I was alive.
But my brain did not pass those thoughts on to my mouth, which was still playing good ol’ commitment-phobic Lindsey. “I told you not to come!”
“Yes, you did,” Luc said. “I ignored you.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“In which case, you’d be full of bullet holes, which I do not find attractive in a woman.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “How did you find me?”
“Your phone. I added GPS, remember? Jeff helped me do the tracking. He is unusually good at tracking.”
Jeff Christopher was a friend of the House, and an employee of Merit’s grandfather, who’d previously been city’s supernatural ombudsman.
I heard a series of snaps, and my wrists were free, sending fierce pain through my shoulders. When my feet were unchained, I put a hand on Luc to stand up.
“Um, no,” he said, leaning down and lifting me into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“You’re actually going to carry me?”
“Without a doubt, Lindsey Rose.” He looked at me, his face furrowed with concern. “You’re all right?”
“I’ll manage,” I said, but tears still spilled. “I thought she was dead, Luc. I thought they were all dead. I never would have left—”
“Hush,” he said. “Hush. Of course you wouldn’t have left them. You’d have done everything you could to help them, to get them out of there alive. Even as young as you were. And even before my skilled tutelage.”
“You’re ruining this lovely moment.”
He laughed, just a little. “Come on, Rose. Let’s get you a bath. You smell like a walking gin and tonic.”
“I could use a gin and tonic.”
“I can make that happen.”
—
This time the hotel was considerably nicer. We skipped the Rookery for the Plaza, a present from Ethan and Merit to speed my recovery. I recouped in the shower, washing away blood and grime and gin.
When I emerged from the locker room–sized bathroom, my wounds already healing, I found Luc across the room, standing in front of a table and eating chocolate-covered strawberries from a silver tray.
I wore the only pajamas I’d packed, a lacy tank top and short set in a pale peach silk. Luc put down the paper and met my gaze.
The atmosphere was awkward, at best.
“I pushed you away,” I said.
“You did,” he carefully answered.
“You came anyway.”
He ran a hand through his curls. “I can’t shake you, Linds. As much as you push me away, I can’t shake you. I don’t want to shake you. I want you—all of you. If I can’t have that, then I don’t know . . .”
It didn’t matter that he didn’t know.
I knew enough for both of us.
I ran to him, jumped into his waiting arms, and wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. And then I kissed him like I might never have another chance.
“Don’t you ever . . . leave me . . . again,” I demanded between kisses.
“You told me to leave you,” he pointed out, between pulling me harder against his growing—and impressive—erection and nipping at my lips.
The kiss deepened, grew breathless. It wasn’t just love. It was need.
Tears slipped from my eyes with the realization—no, the admission—of how much I needed him, how much he centered me, how much better I was when we were together.
“I love you,” I said, pulling back and putting my hands on his cheeks, making him look at me and see the emotion reflected in my face.
And I felt it from him, too, magnified and illuminated. Not just because he loved me, but because—fully and finally—he trusted that I loved him back and that his heart was as safe in my hands as mine was in his.
He looked utterly awed. “Christ, Lindsey. I love you, too.”
We looked at each other for a moment, until his eyes dropped to my lips and we attacked each other again. I gripped handfuls of his hair, tugging until his throat rumbled in a growl, sending white-hot heat through my body. Luc fixed his mouth on mine—sucking, biting, tasting—and maneuvered my body until my back was against the wall and the friction between us had me on the edge of a brutal orgasm.
Without warning, it burst across my body like fire, and I called out his name with a shuddering moan.
“Yes,” he said. “I want more of you.”
My body still wrapped around his, he moved back to the bed and lay me down upon it. My clothing was gone in a flash. His quickly followed, and then his body was atop mine, hot and hungry and hard for me.
He cupped my breast in his hand, teasing and inciting me again, challenging me to go further. “More,” he said.
“I don’t have any more.” My voice sounded love-drunk, spent.
“Liar.”
I hadn’t been lying, but he made a liar of me. With a single, powerful thrust, he emptied me of doubt, his skilled hips proving that he could play my body like a virtuoso.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, watching as his eyes silvered and fangs descended, and arched my neck to offer him the truest gift a vampire could offer.
Blood.
He pierced, sending another wave of pleasure through me, groaning at my neck with the pleasure of it. His body moved faster, his hands still at my body—testing, teasing, lifting—until with a final, single groan he destroyed both of us.
Some seconds later, he collapsed beside me, but intertwined our fingers.
When my breathing returned to normal, I glanced at him. “How do we do it? How do we keep this safe?”
Luc smiled, a curl across his forehead, and nipped at my knuckle. “Just like anything else as a vampire,” he said. “We plan for contingencies, and we take it one night at a time.”
—
He’d gotten permission to use the Cadogan jet, which meant my second flight was significantly more luxe than the first one had been. Lots of creamy leather and offers from the steward for drinks, food, and reading material.
With Luc beside me, and a new kind of hope in my heart, it wasn’t the worst way to travel.
We returned to the House to find Rachel in the foyer, waiting impatiently with Ethan and Merit for my arrival. Rachel burst toward me and wrapped me in a hug, and I bit back a wince as well as I could.
“Thank God, Aunt Lindsey. I was so worried!”
“That doesn
’t say much for my skills,” I pointed out.
“Which are impressive,” Luc murmured, a hand at my back.
Ray stepped back and smiled. “Uncle Luc said you’d be fine. And that was before he left to rescue you.”
There were so many things wrong with those sentences, I goggled.
“Uncle Luc?” I repeated. “And before he came to ‘rescue’ me?”
Merit unsuccessfully bit back a snicker, and even Ethan chuckled.
“Kids say the darnedest things,” Luc said, in his “Aw, shucks” voice, which he usually imagined would get him out of trouble.
“We’ll discuss that later,” I said good-naturedly, looking back at Rachel. “You’re all right?”
“I’m great. Everybody’s been really nice. Helen gave me a tour of the House, and let me use the library to study, which was great. And Merit let me try these little desserts called Mallocakes, which I’d never seen but will now be scouring the Internet for. But, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m ready to go home.” She winced, and glanced back at Merit and Ethan apologetically.
“Even the finest hotel is second to sleeping in your own bed,” Ethan said. “It was lovely having you here, Rachel.” He glanced at me. “And good to see you back healthy and hale, Lindsey.”
“Liege,” I said with a nod, then looked at Luc. “Is it safe for her to go home again?”
“It is now,” he said. “Your friend at the Green Clare has been taken care of, and the CPD went through the house just in case there were any more booby traps.”
“Did he find anything?” I asked.
“Nothing at all. Targeted attack, mostly to get you to pay attention. Which worked.”
“It did,” I allowed.
“I told the town car to wait,” Luc said, hitching a thumb at the door, “in case Rachel was ready.”
“She is,” Rachel said, pointing to her bag nearby on the floor.
“In that case, I’ll walk you out.” I glanced at Luc. “Could you give us a minute?”
“Of course.” He held the door open and waited while Rachel and I walked through.
