by Ari McKay
But for once, Thomas wasn’t distracted by the lure of thousands of books he hadn’t yet read. He and Julian had brought the trunks to the library, and after spending several minutes trying the many keys on Grandpa’s key ring, he’d finally gotten the three locked trunks open.
He sat on his heels and looked up at Julian. “Should we look through them together, or do you want to divide them up?”
“Together,” Julian replied. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in a restless way that wasn’t at all like his normal demeanor. “I’m not going to take a chance that things in there are somehow protected from being handled by people outside your family.”
“The feather wasn’t, and I can’t imagine anything more powerful and personal than that.” Thomas watched Julian with growing concern. “Are you okay?”
Julian abruptly ceased the movement, then waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. And maybe there was a protection on the feather and Micah removed it. You might be able to tell just by looking if there’s magic on something. Things keyed to a family are usually obvious to those of the blood.”
“How would I do that?” Thomas tossed the key ring aside and scooted over to kneel in front of the first trunk in the row, deciding to go through them in order.
“Auras.” Julian sighed. “We haven’t gotten that far in your training yet. It’s like when I had you look at the glyph today, though. It’s something you see, not with your eyes, but with your soul, if that makes any sense. Every living thing has an aura. So do demons. So does anything that’s been enchanted or rigged with a trap. In that case, though, it’s not the object that radiates the aura, but the lingering intent of whatever laid the trap. You should have the natural ability to do it, we just need to get you used to doing it.”
“Okay, but maybe not tonight?” Thomas gave Julian a wide-eyed look of appeal. “I’d rather focus on finding out what’s in the trunk. We can do an item analysis later.”
“All right.” Julian gestured at the trunk. “Go ahead. It’s your birthright in there.”
Excitement and apprehension churned in Thomas’s stomach as he removed the padlock and opened the lid. As curious as he was to learn more about his family and his abilities, he knew his grandfather didn’t want him to see any of this, and he felt a twinge of guilt for going against Grandpa’s wishes. But Grandpa was dead, and Julian and the others needed Thomas to help fight the encroaching demons—and Thomas wanted to know the truth.
The first trunk was filled with journals, and the musty scent of dust and old paper wafted past Thomas’s nose as he pulled out one of the journals on top. It looked newer, and when Thomas opened the cover, he saw a name inscribed inside in elegant cursive: Alicia Carter.
“This one belonged to my mother,” he said, glancing up at Julian. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of holding something of hers and of learning about her at long last.
Julian looked pained for a moment; then he glanced away. “I remember seeing her write in it. She told me that she included research and other information they found interesting too, not just documentation of battles against particular demons.”
Thomas flipped through the journal and landed on a random page, and his eye was drawn by the sight of his own name. “Listen to this! ‘James and Julian went out tonight to clear a cemetery in Brevard. I didn’t go because Thomas has colic. My poor baby is miserable, and I couldn’t stand to leave him like this, not even with his grandparents.’ I wish I remembered her,” he said, running his forefinger across his name, written in her script.
Julian frowned in thought. “I remember going to that cemetery. James made some excuse about Alicia being ill. Maybe they never told anyone in the supernatural community about you, even me, because they were trying to protect you. Or maybe they just wanted to have some part of their lives that was close to what normal people had.”
“It would make sense,” Thomas said as he closed the journal and placed it on the nearest tea table. He wanted to keep it out so he could read it from cover to cover later. “I would’ve been an easy way to hurt them until I was old enough to defend myself. Maybe they didn’t want me to become a target.”
“I suppose so.” Julian pointed at the next trunk. “What about that one?”
Thomas was tempted to go through the journals more thoroughly and see how far back they went, but there would be time for that later. Instead, he scooted over to the next trunk and opened it. Inside were more books, but when Thomas removed a few and examined them, he found these weren’t journals.
“This looks like it’s all about glyphs,” he said as he thumbed through the pages of one of the smaller books. “There are pictures of glyphs and information about which demon it’s associated with and different ways to erase them.”
“We’re going to want to take a thorough look through that one.” Julian’s blue eyes gleamed as he looked at the book in Thomas’s hand. “We’ve been trying to identify the high-order demon behind the incursion we’ve been battling. We have some of the glyphs. If we had its name, we could try to guess its motive. And figure out the best way to stop it.”
Thomas handed the book to Julian and then dug through the trunk. “It looks like all of these will be useful,” he said. “They’re all books about demons and magic. I’m almost afraid to touch the ones on the bottom. They look really old, and I don’t think they’re written in English, based on the text on the spines.”
Julian had been keeping a certain amount of distance, but now he moved closer, putting one hand on Thomas’s shoulder and leaning down over him to peer into the trunk, his expression alight with interest. “That one on the left is Latin. The one next to it… that’s Hebrew. I think the next one is Old Church Slavonic, but I’d have to see the inside to be certain.”
Thomas rested his hand on top of Julian’s, wanting to maintain the contact. He’d tried not to think too much about the kiss—his first ever—because they had more important matters to deal with, but every time the memory popped into his mind, his toes curled anew.
“Do you want to look at any of them now?” he asked.
Julian went still, then shook his head. “No, let’s see what’s in the other chest first.” He patted Thomas’s shoulder, then stepped back.
Thomas released a quiet sigh of disappointment as Julian moved away. But if Julian wasn’t interested in him, the kiss never would have happened in the first place, so whatever was causing Julian to keep his distance now, lack of interest wasn’t it. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the best time to see if he could coax Julian into kissing him again, and so he moved on to the next trunk.
Opening it revealed a small cache of weapons, and on top was a matching set of sheathed knives. Thomas picked them up and showed them to Julian. “There are all kinds of weapons in this one,” he said. “I think I even saw a little crossbow in there.”
“I recognize those knives. Those were your mother’s.” Julian reached out, brushing a finger against the leather of one sheath. “Look here, at the embossing. It’s her initials. AGC. I think I remember James saying he’d had the sheaths made as a wedding gift for her. The knives, though… they’re very, very old.”
Thomas clutched the sheaths, the lump reforming in his throat. For the first time in his life, he felt a connection to his parents, and he wanted to know more about them. He wanted to know everything.
“Do you know what the G stood for?” he asked, cradling the knives against his chest.
Julian’s brow furrowed. “Gother? No, it was Gauthier.” He nodded in satisfaction, a tiny smile curving his lips. “I remember teasing her that James just wanted something ‘Gothier’ than my castle.”
“Gauthier is my middle name!” Thomas knew it was probably foolish to be so excited over such a trivial fact, but after a lifetime of knowing little about his parents beyond their first names, he couldn’t help it.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Julian said quietly. “Micah’s father was Thomas, and there was another Thoma
s Carter back around the time I was turned. You’re connected to both your parents, and the rest of your ancestors. Micah should never have prevented you from knowing about them.”
“No, he shouldn’t have.” Thomas felt a fresh surge of anger at his grandfather, but he focused on the knives and let go of the anger. Micah could no longer stop him from connecting to his heritage, and at least he hadn’t lived his entire life in ignorance. He had the chance to catch up on everything he’d missed. “I want to use these,” he said, gazing up at Julian.
“Of course.” Julian gave another small smile. “What else is in there? Your father had a sword, and Micah preferred an axe.”
Thomas peered into the trunk. “There’s an axe near the top. I see at least three short swords, some more daggers, and a small crossbow. It looks like there’s a chain and a pair of manacles too, plus more stuff on the bottom. I think we’ll be well armed from now on.”
Julian nodded. “I have weapons as well, but I suspect these are specifically enchanted to be used against demons. Keep the daggers, and you might like the crossbow to use from a distance.”
Thomas put the daggers on top of the book he’d set aside, and then he dug out the crossbow and added that to his growing pile. “We’ve already seen what’s in the last trunk,” he said as he stood up and stretched his legs. “What should we do with them now? Start making a detailed inventory? If the books aren’t dangerous to touch, I don’t mind if you add them to your library.”
For several moments Julian simply looked at him, his dark blue gaze intent on Thomas’s face. He raised one hand as if he was going to reach out and touch Thomas, but then he stopped. “Let’s leave the inventory until tomorrow. It’s getting late, and you haven’t eaten, have you? Not in hours.”
Thomas’s stomach chose that moment to rumble, and he smiled sheepishly. “I guess you have your answer,” he said.
Julian’s eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. “Come along, Mighty Hunter,” he said, turning for the door. “I want to check on the supplies. I looked on the internet and found out there are places that will deliver foodstuffs. I set up an account, so you can order anything you’d like.”
Along with learning about his heritage and how to fight, Thomas had been catching up on technology. Julian had given him a smartphone and taught him how to use it, along with how to use a DVR and the internet. If there hadn’t been a threat of imminent demonic invasion, Thomas would have loved to spend more time online or watching horror movies, but he’d had to limit himself to an hour of technology indulgence per day. Now, at least, he knew what Julian meant when he referred to setting up an account and ordering things online.
“I found a couple of recipes I’d like to try,” Thomas said as he headed to the kitchen. “I’ll write up a grocery list.”
He enjoyed cooking, and now that he had the entire internet to scour for recipes, he relished the thought of experimenting with new dishes.
Thomas had learned that even though Julian had no need to eat, he seemed interested in watching people cook. The kitchen in Castle Schaden was surprisingly modern, and Julian had explained that he’d let Arden do whatever he wanted with the place a few years before, when Arden had complained about having to cook on a woodstove whenever he came over. When Thomas had first arrived and had gone to put away the food he’d brought over, he’d found little in the huge refrigerator except for a couple of bottles of wine, and the cupboards had been bare of anything but a box of crackers that were two years beyond their expiration date. Now the fridge held the remnants of what Thomas had brought from Whimsy’s house, and several dark red pouches of blood Julian had obtained from sources he refused to name.
Julian took a seat at the large, granite-topped island in the middle of the big room. “It’s a good thing you like to cook,” he said, putting his elbows on the island and resting his chin on one hand. “Otherwise I’d have to hire someone to do it for you. Whimsy doesn’t trust me to even make toast.”
“Well, you’re centuries out of practice,” Thomas said as he gathered up what he needed to make a sandwich with the leftover meatloaf he’d made a couple of days ago. “They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so it’s too bad I can’t cook for you,” he added wistfully. He did like the idea of being able to cook for Julian; he would have found it satisfying in much the same way Whimsy and Arden seemed to.
Julian’s eyes widened; then he looked away. “I wasn’t a gourmet even before I had a liquid diet,” he said. “The foodstuffs available three centuries ago weren’t what they are today. We didn’t have a huge variety in our diets, and the spices were very basic. I didn’t feel I was sacrificing much to become an immortal. I could still have alcohol and tea. Coffee wasn’t really known yet in America, and chocolate was a luxury for only the rich. There wasn’t anything else I miss.”
Thomas warmed up a slice of meatloaf in the microwave and then assembled his sandwich. “Only because you don’t know what you’re missing,” he said as he sat down on the stool beside Julian. “I make a mean meatloaf.”
Julian sniffed. “It smells interesting, I’ll give you that. Better than the things I had when I was still alive, certainly. Still, immortality comes at a cost for those not born to it. Before the feather took away Harlan’s curse, he paid a much higher price for his than I.”
“What was it?” Thomas asked. He’d been so busy training, he hadn’t gotten to spend much time with his new friends, and he was curious to learn more about them.
“He was unable to shift at will. Instead, he was much more like the werewolves in fiction, where a very painful transformation was triggered each month by the full moon.” Julian gave a small shudder. “I’m amazed he didn’t end his life, to be honest. It speaks well of his strength of spirit that he endured it.”
“I’m glad he did,” Thomas said. “He and Whimsy seem quite happy.” He ate in silence for a moment, thinking about what he’d learned about other supernatural beings. “Are demon hunters immortal?”
“No.” Julian looked pained as he made the admission. “You’re longer-lived than most mortals, of course. Perhaps the first few generations after the angel were, but as the bloodlines were thinned with humans, it lessened the lifespans. My sire, Frederick, knew some of the old demon hunter families in Europe, and he said they would live three hundred years, perhaps more. Assuming, of course, they didn’t die in the commission of their duties. As you know from the fate of your grandfather, demon hunting is a dangerous business. And your parents dying in an accident is certainly tragic. They were young even for humans, and as demon hunters, they probably had more than a century of life ahead of them.”
“All the more reason why I shouldn’t put things off, I suppose,” Thomas said, glancing sidelong at Julian. He wasn’t sure why Julian was keeping his distance, especially not after that kiss, but he didn’t intend to let it continue.
Julian frowned slightly. “I don’t think you have to rush into anything you’re not ready for. I’m going to make certain you’re trained first and able to handle yourself. You’re not facing anything alone either. I’m here for you, and so are Arden and Whimsy and the others.”
Thomas pushed his plate away and swiveled on the stool to face Julian, letting out a little exasperated huff. “I’m not talking about demon hunting, Julian. I’m talking about us.”
“Us?” Julian’s frown became a scowl, but there was also a flash of something that wasn’t quite panic in his eyes. “If you mean the kiss, I’ll apologize for that. It was wrong of me to take advantage of you.”
“I don’t want an apology,” Thomas said, leaning forward and resting his hand on Julian’s thigh. “I want another kiss.”
“Thomas, I….” There was no mistaking it. Calm, cool, rational Julian looked ready to bolt. “Now that you’re out from under Micah’s thumb you’re discovering lots of things about the world and about yourself. You’re curious about sex, I understand that. But you should be with someone closer to your own age.
I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“Why do you think I need someone my own age?” Thomas asked, sliding his hand higher up Julian’s thigh.
“Because you’re a virgin, and you’re nearly three hundred years younger than I am!” Julian swallowed hard. “Plus I knew your parents, and your grandfather, and… hell, I even had a fling with one of your great-great-great uncles about the time George Vanderbilt was building his house. You need someone normal who can introduce you to all the things you’ve missed.”
“It seems to me that someone who’s got plenty of experience is the perfect one to introduce me to everything I’ve missed,” Thomas said, giving Julian’s leg a gentle squeeze. “Any other arguments you want to try to make?”
Suddenly Thomas found himself lifted up off the stool. Then Julian spun him and pressed him up against the wall. Julian’s body was hard against his, and Julian had moved with such blinding speed Thomas wasn’t even sure how Julian had managed to capture his wrists, but now they were pinned above his head in an iron-hard grip. There was something dark and dangerous in Julian’s expression, and Thomas caught the flash of fangs as Julian snarled. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. You don’t know what it means. You don’t know me. What I’m capable of. What I’m guilty of. This is a game to you, and I’m not playing it.”
Arousal zinged through Thomas at Julian’s show of strength, and he found himself instinctively tipping his chin up to bare his throat. “This isn’t a game,” he said. “You’re forgetting what I am. I may not be able to see auras yet, but I can read you well enough. Demon hunters might not forge mating bonds, but since the moment we met, everything in me has been saying you’re mine.”
Julian’s eyes grew wide. It was obvious he had expected Thomas to back down, perhaps even to become frightened of him. They were so close that Thomas could feel the way Julian’s heart was pounding. Julian’s gaze moved downward, stopping at Thomas’s throat. A battle seemed to rage within him; he clenched his jaw, but his fangs grew longer. With a sound that was half snarl, half moan, Julian parted his lips, fastening his mouth on the side of Thomas’s neck. His fangs pierced Thomas’s skin, and he began to suck.
