He hesitated long enough to set the mugs on the table, and drew her into his arms. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking!” She was. Remembered hurt from Ahmet’s rejection gripped her like a vise. “What’s the matter, love?”
That last word echoed in her mind, and she relaxed. “What’s bothering you?” he asked. “Terrified I’d get out stakes or garlic?”
“I wasn’t worried about them—they don’t work, but it has been known for people to react strongly to the information.” Heaven help her, she sounded like a machine…and had felt like one back then.
“Your second husband?” She nodded. “What about your first. How did you part?”
“When I died in childbirth.”
He took a long time to digest that. “When was that?”
A man as extraordinary as Mike deserved the truth. “Eighteen twenty-two.”
He sat down. She moved fast enough to make sure there was a stool under him. He gripped her sleeve. ‘I’m not going to wake up and find this is a dream am I?”
She kissed his forehead. “No, Mike, my love. You won’t.”
He let out a long breath. “So you came to investigate this Rudicorp outfit, and sort things out.”
“I came to investigate and report, but since things seem to be about to come to a head, I’d better do what I can.”
“Is that bruise really healing, like your hand?”
She undid her belt and let the robe fall open. Mike stared while the kettle boiled. They both ignored it. Coffee was the last thing on either of their minds. He stepped forward, his long, strong fingers reaching out to caress the fading white mark. “Incredible,” he whispered, taking up her hand, looking at the perfectly healed palm and fingers. “As unbelievable as you!”
And him. What other mortal could accept her as she was and still call her his love? Nur reached out and stroked the side of his face, his chin was smooth and fresh-shaven, his lips full and warm and ready. She leaned in, raised her hand to rest on his shoulder, and gently brushed her lips against his.
It was a conflagration as surely as his setting the match to the fire, but hotter, faster, and wilder. Nur ripped Mike’s clothes off him, as his robe fell off her shoulders, or maybe she threw it off. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but his lips on hers, his hands on her flesh, his knee between her thighs and the sweet, feral heat of their bodies.
They were on the cold, tiled floor, rolling on each other, reaching, pulling, heating the very tiles with their need and passion. Last night had been tender, loving and passionate. Now, a fierce need drove them both. Nur threw back her head and yelled in triumph, as she straddled him, and lowered herself on his erection. He gave out a groan of sheer pleasure as she lifted up to take him in deep again. She rode him, pulling him with her in her need, caressing his cock with her hot flesh. In a fierce, crazed rhythm, they matched each other, cry for cry and satisfaction for satisfaction, until they both screamed aloud in a mutual climax.
Mike’s gorgeous hair was dark with sweat, and plastered to his head, his face flushed and his chest heaving, but his eyes shone at her with the sated joy of a satisfied love.
She grinned back. “Mike, I think we should get up.”
He returned her grin. “I dunno. I rather like it here.” He reached up and brushed her hard nipples with his hands. “Smashing view.”
She eased off him and bent down and kissed the sweet, warm head of his cock. “I agree.”
A loud buzzer sounded behind her.
Chapter Twelve
‘Damn!” Mike sat up as she eased off him. “The washing machine’s finished. I’ll put your stuff in the dryer.”
Doing so, he gave her another view of his lovely ass. As he pushed the door closed, he said, “I think we both need another shower,” and held out his hand.
It was a tight fit for two, but they managed. Neither bothered in the slightest by the very close contact. Mike started singing as he soaped her back, and Nur responded with a ballad her grandmother used to sing, about a young moroii who loved a mortal man. It was a bad choice, in the last verse she was deserted, but…
“A sad-sounding song,” Mike said, as he reached for the shower spray.
“Yes, it’s an old one.”
“Talking about old, are you really almost two hundred years old?”
“Do you have a problem with older women?”
She meant it jokingly but a shadow crossed his face.
“Tell me,” he said, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. “This biting and sucking blood business. You don’t do it often, right?”
“A couple of times a month.” She braced for the next, inevitable questions: How many others? Did you fuck them too? Instead, he asked, “Will I become a vampire then?”
She wanted to laugh from relief, but hesitated, no point in seeming rude. “No dear.” She lifted her head and kissed him through a cascade of warm water. “No way, I’m afraid. You have to be born with the trait, only my bloodline have it.”
“But our children would?”
He was leaping a few fences. Fast. “It’s only possible for moroii to bear children before we die. Afterwards, when we have returned—it’s impossible. I’m not the least likely to give birth to a little half-moroii. Not anymore.”
“And you died in childbirth…” An unusual thing in this time, but once…
“I did, my daughter survived.”
He gulped. “Your daughter?”
“Yes, she lived to the rip old age of eighty-two, and died—she claims—of apoplexy at seeing her mother dressed as a flapper. I’d been in New York on a job, right after the Great War, got my photo in one of the scandal magazines, in the company of a notorious playboy. My daughter is very straight-laced.”
“Your family reunions must be incredible!”
“Different from yours, I imagine.” What else could she say? Life was different among her people.
Sam drove up as they were on the second cup of the new pot of coffee. “Sorry I’m a bit late,” he said. “Had to go in with Sarah and bail out her sister who got arrested last night.” He gave a big sigh. “We were damn lucky to get Todd away last night, and now Rudicorp are denying they used attack dogs. Bastards!”
“Want to help nail them?” Nur asked.
“Anything I can do, Yildiz, I’ll be delighted.”
All three of them perched on stools around the kitchen table, and Mike poured more coffee.
Nur took a sip from her mug, while she gathered her thoughts. She had to make it convincing, but no way was she telling Sam all she’d told Mike. Already she was doubting the wisdom of so much frankness. “I work for an outfit that investigates crime, potential crime and criminal activity. Rudicorp, the new owners of the stones, are under investigation.” Sam nodded, listening. So far so good. “We think they are planning something. Not sure what, but definitely antisocial. They have ties with several terrorist groups.”
That got a bit of a reaction, but of interest rather than shock. Sam gave her an encouraging nod. “I’m ninety-eight percent certain they are planning something for Monday. Not sure what, and I’m uncertain of their target but they are in direct sight of Horrodales.”
“Christ! They’d pick up an attack on the system, and… Damn! It would be, World War Three! Bloody Armageddon!”
Better calm him down. “If that’s their objective. Honestly, I don’t know, but if it is, I doubt conventional weapons are planned. They’d be too easily intercepted,” she paused. “What do you know about harnessing energy from ley lines?”
He stared. Darn! He was about to tell her she was nuts. “What do you know about it?”
“Nothing. That’s why I’m asking you. There are ley lines through Hollrigg, right? Quite strong ones?”
He nodded. “You sensed them?”
It was her turn to nod. “And I must admit, I had read up about Hollrigg beforehand.”
Sam drained his mug and set it on the tabletop. “Yes, there are ley lines and their strength increases at the equi
noxes and solstices. No one quite knows why, but we don’t know everything. As for gathering in the energy, my great-grandmother was reputed to have the power. They say she used it to knock a couple of German bombers out of the sky. Not confirmed by the authorities naturally,” he added with a wry smile.
“Naturally!” Nice pun too. She liked the idea of the destroyers of many of her bloodline, getting eliminated by magic. “Okay, so…if power can possibly be harnessed. How can it be blocked?”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Blocked?”
“Yes, diverted, dammed up, stopped from flowing?”
“Iron pins are the traditional way.”
“How many ley lines run though the stones?”
“Three. Unusual. Most sites have just one.”
“Where can I get three iron pins?”
He shook his head. “If you are serious about this, three won’t do it. Three each way is the traditional number to block power.”
* * * * *
Three hours later, after driving to Darlington, they had their eighteen iron pins—or rather lengths of iron railing gleaned from a recycling yard.
“Now what?” Mike asked as he pulled back into his driveway.
Chapter Thirteen
“We wait until dark,” Nur replied. “I go up there. Sam finds the exact position of the lines and I push in the pins. If what I think is right, they will block the energy and thwart whatever nastiness they have planned for Monday.”
“If they are aiming for the solstice,” Sam said, “it’s not just Monday. The window starts tomorrow and goes on until Tuesday.”
“Then we need to get them in place as soon as possible. Thank goodness it gets dark early here.”
“Have you any idea,” Sam asked, “what it will take to drive those railings into the ground?”
“That’s not a problem,” Nur assured him.
“She’ll manage,” Mike added.
Sam shook his head. “If you say so. Seems nuts to me. but if you’re serious, let’s ask my sister. She is much more sensitive to ley lines than I am. “
Another mortal! Nur was getting uneasy now. The more people who shared a secret, the less of a secret it was. But if his sister was more sensitive… “Will she agree?”
“Don’t see why not. I’ll have to tell her all you told me, though.”
Unfortunately, that was a given. She could hardly expect the woman to come out on a December night and tramp around muddy fields just for the hell of it. “Okay, but do impress on her the need for secrecy.”
“After the little fiasco last night, I think that is understood.”
Without any foundation, other than her own instincts, she trusted him.
* * * * *
Dusk was falling as Nur and Mike pulled up in front of Sam’s parents’ house. What he had told them, she had no idea. As they walked up the path, Nur noticed the lighted tree in the front window, and similar trees in several other houses on the street. A wreath of holly and ivy hung on the front door. More Christmas preparations.
“Welcome, Yildiz!” a short, plump, bright-eyed woman opened the door. “I’m Mary Clay, Sam’s mother, and what a lovely time to have a visitor!” Nur hugged her, not having much choice, and liking the genuine warmth the woman projected. “Now, you will have some tea, won’t you?”
While Mary bustled in the kitchen, clinking cups on saucers and bringing in plates of cakes, and what Nur later learned were mince pies, Sam’s father invited them to sit. After a few polite questions about Istanbul, and how Nur liked Yorkshire weather, he asked, “What exactly do you expect my daughter to do for you?”
“Dad!” Sylvie said but sat there fuming silently when he looked her way. “Sylvie, great things are at stake here. I need to know. She could be planning to abuse your skills.”
“I’m not,” Nur said. It would take more than the word of a stranger to convince him. “It’s complicated, and most of it is guesswork,” she went on, and against all the rules of SIA, told him everything. It took awhile, and a few gasps of surprise—especially from Sam when she got to the moroii explanation.
When she finished, everyone was silent, only the click of the grandfather clock and the crackle of a falling log in the grate. Everyone, Nur included, seemed to be waiting for Sam’s father to speak.
He looked up at Nur, a flicker of a smile on his face. “You know, in ordinary circumstances, I’d say you’d been watching too much Buffy, but given everything else the past few days. I see no reason to disbelieve you. And I think your conjecture about Monday is right. It confirms what Clare told her mother.”
“Clare?” Nur asked.
“Clare Ryder, her mother is a member of our clan,” Sam explained. “What did she tell her Mum?” he asked his father.
“Apparently, after you left after bailing out Sarah, a representative of Rudicorp told the police they weren’t pressing charges. Seems Clare and a couple of friends hung around. There was a policeman one of them rather fancied, I gather, and they overheard, the representative saying to another man, not to press charges, as after the weekend it wouldn’t matter anyway. Clare told her mother, who passed that on to me, as she knows how concerned we all are about what’s going on. It made little sense, until now.”
“Blocking ley lines is not an action to take lightly.” It was Mary. Sometime during Nur’s long discourse, she’d come in and set the tea tray on the table. “We need to consider the possible repercussions.”
“But it might work?” Nur asked.
“Oh yes,” she nodded as she picked up the tea pot. “Do you take milk and sugar?”
It took Nur a moment to switch mental tracks. “Sugar but no milk, please.”
Nothing much was said as they passed around cups of tea and plates. Nur felt she’d slipped a few cogs into an alternate universe. They passed sugar, sandwiches, and mince pies, as if having a vamp to tea was an everyday occurrence, while she was having a hard time even swallowing. What if this were a trap and they were out to kill her? Could she overcome four in one go? Five, if Mike wasn’t on her side.
“Seems to me,” Sam’s father said as he polished off his second mince pie, “it’s not Sylvie you need.”
Nur’s heart sank. Hadn’t Sam’s sister been her best hope?
“I think you’re right.” Mary Clay replied.
“Mum!” Sylvie protested.
“Hush dear,” her mother said. “Your skills are strong, but still developing, and if Yildiz is right, we have no room for error here.”
“Who’s going to help me find the ley lines then?” Nur asked.
“Why, I will of course,” Mary Clay replied. “And I think we can pass pretty much unnoticed,” she went on. “Two women on our own. People tend not to suspect women. It’s very useful.”
“Mum, how about carrying those pins?” Sam asked. “One of us had better come and carry a few and park the car as close as possible.”
“That increases the likelihood of us being seen,” Nur said. “I’ll carry them.”
“It took Mike and me to lift the box into the car,” Sam protested.
“Yes,” Nur replied, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can manage them. No problem.”
The problem was finding a basket or box strong enough to hold eighteen, heavy iron pins. After experimentation, and a bit of quick sewing on Mary Clay’s part, they fashioned a belt that held them and fitted round Nur’s waist. The weight slowed her down, but she’d be walking at Mary’s speed anyway, and a jacket hid them.
“You’ll need a mallet or something to hammer them in,” Sam said. “Won’t you?”
Nur shook her head.
It was a damp, cold evening as the Clays drove out to Hollrigg, and dropped Nur and Mary off, a short distance from the end of the path. “We’ll wait at the crossroads,” John Clay said.
Nur could sense their worry as they drove away. She looked up at the older woman. “Sorry to drag you out on a night like this.”
Mary Clay smiled. “Listen, love,
if you are right, it is a privilege and an obligation, to thwart those who attempt to desecrate our sacred shrine, and use a holy force for evil.”
And if she was wrong? No point in dwelling on that. “Where do we start…”
“As close to the stones as we dare, and work our way outwards. We’ll put three pins in each line, that way if one is discovered, perhaps the others will pass unnoticed.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll push them in deep enough not to be found.” It took them most of the night, pacing across the fields and the woods, as Mary traced the lines. Somewhere around ten or eleven, the sleet started. Nur was concerned about the older woman and the cold, but Mary dismissed Nur’s worries. “I’ve lived here all my life, Nur. I grew up in a house without heating, except fires and the kitchen stove, where we heated water in a copper pot. I can stand one evening in the open.”
Put that way…
Nur smiled and pounded another pin in the spot Mary indicated. Each time as Nur sent the iron home, she felt the tremor in the earth, and hoped the alterations weren’t registered anywhere. If they were, what would they do? Send those dogs after them? Nur could take care of three dogs, and any stray bullets that came her way. But Mary didn’t have a Kevlar vest. Nur stood up. She’d cross that hurdle when she came to it.
Chapter Fourteen
The last pin in place, it was nearly two in the morning. Mary looked spent, and Nur was only too aware of her own fatigue. She thought of the three men waiting in the car, and hoped they’d managed some sleep. If she’d known how long it would take, she’d have insisted they go home. Mary and she had walked miles, up and down open county, over rough ground, and through boggy patches. They were now, Nur judged, a good couple of miles from the meeting place. And the most direct route back, passed close to the farmhouse. On her own, Nur would have given it a wide berth, but Mary’s fatigue was obvious, and there were no planes beside the house as far as Nur could see. Maybe it was empty, everyone underground.
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