Everyone’s future rode on the outcome of this. Human and vampire. Merely the future of mankind.
Chapter Four
Winter stepped out of the restaurant after eating an expensive lunch she hadn’t wanted, looked around carefully for a woman in a headscarf, without telegraphing that she was doing much more than putting on her sunglasses and adjusting her hair in reaction to the sweltering heat beating up from the concrete all around her. Then she headed west along the drive once more, secure in the knowledge that she had offloaded Finka Zupan and could get on with her business.
She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket as she skirted around slower tourists and checked the time. The meeting Nial and Sebastian had arranged would be over by now. It would be safe for her to call. She thumbed the speed dial for Sebastian’s number, knowing he would be more likely to answer.
“Problems?” he said, without preamble. His voice was a soft, deep caress in her ear. “You should be at the agency by now.”
“I’ve dealt with it,” she assured him. “Just letting you know I’m delayed.”
“How delayed?”
“Forty minutes. Nothing crucial.”
“Do you need help with clean-up at all?”
She thought about it for a few seconds. Did she need to do anything about Finka Zupan, or would simple denial be enough? It had been over twenty years. With Winter flat out denying who she was, Finka must surely doubt her own memory of the scrawny child she once knew in Serbia. “No,” she told Sebastian. “No clean-up is needed. It’s done.”
“See you back at home, mo bhean álainn.” He disconnected.
Winter checked the time again, before tucking her phone back in her pocket. She could reach the agency before the lunch rush if she hurried.
Finka Zupan stepped out of a deeply recessed store doorway and stopped in front of Winter. She reached for Winter’s arm with both of hers and held on with a strength that anchored Winter to the pavement. “All I want is to talk. Two minutes of your time. Just talk. That’s all. Please.”
“Listen, whoever you are, I told you before, I’m not who you think you are.”
“You can be whoever you want,” Finka replied. “I don’t care who you are now. But I know who you were. Deny it until you’re blue in the face, but you and I both know the truth.”
Winter scrabbled at the woman’s grip on her arm. She couldn’t use her ability to adjust other people’s biologies right out here on Hollywood Boulevard. There were way too many witnesses. The only way she was going to get Finka to let her arm go would be to put Finka to sleep or numb her body...
Winter took in a sharp breath. She didn’t have to numb the entire body. Just parts of it.
She began to babble, to cover up what she was doing. “If you don’t let me go right now, I’m going to call the police. You’ve got fifteen seconds before I start yelling my head off, lady.”
And as she spoke, she used the grip Finka had on her arm as a conduit to reach into Finka’s body. Just far enough in to find the nerves serving the woman’s wrists and hands and send them to sleep. She gave it the fifteen seconds she had allowed Finka, then she wrenched her arm away from the woman and stepped back. Finka’s hands fell uselessly to her sides.
Finka held up her hands, looking at them with a puzzled expression. Clearly, she was trying to flex the fingers, or curl them and was finding them unresponsive.
Winter didn’t wait for Finka’s next move. She turned and started walking again, as fast as she could manage without breaking into a run. Her heart was thundering. Adrenaline. Fear.
She poured soothing chemicals into her system, calming herself.
Finka landed on her back.
Winter went sprawling, her hands and knees scraping along the cement, peeling back the skin and shredding it. She cried out and her briefcase went flying.
People stepped carefully around them and moved on. After all, this was L.A.
Winter rolled over onto her butt and sat up. The heels of her hands were stinging madly and her knees were a bloody mess. She would have to heel them afterwards. For right now, she could do nothing about them. She reached for the briefcase and pulled it closer, before some opportunistic thief took possession of it.
Finka held up her hands. The fingers were still useless claws. “Got the wrong person, do I?” she asked softly. “There’s only one girl in the world that could do this to me, and I’m looking at her. We both know what you are. You can use whatever name you want. I don’t care.” She swivelled her hands so they turned like freakish dead trees on display. “I care about the person who can do this...and other things.”
Winter felt sick. By using her talent even a little, she had confirmed for Finka she was Morana. She hid her face and any expression that might show, by slowly getting to her feet.
Finka brushed herself off with the back of her hands and got up awkwardly, too. Winter didn’t offer to help.
“You knew what I was, back in Serbia,” she said softly.
“I heard rumours. Too many to ignore,” Finka said. “And there was the way your father treated you.” She grimaced. “Like the devil himself had taken up residence. But now I know it is true.” She studied Winter. “I need your help. And I have come a long way to get it.”
* * * * *
“She came from where?” Nial asked, folding up his glasses and sliding them into his breast pocket.
“Antler, North Dakota,” Winter repeated unhappily. She clasped her hands between her knees. She had healed the skin on her hands and her knees as soon as she had escaped Finka’s presence and the public street. Now all that was left was the blood that had dried on her shins. It didn’t even sting anymore. She sat on the plush dining chair pulled up in front of the round table, still wearing her business suit.
Nial sat, as usual, on the tallest perch in the room so he could stretch out his legs. Today, that was the arm of the sofa. He still wore the suit he would have donned for his meeting, but he had removed the tie. Sebastian sat on the sofa itself, cross-legged and barefoot, already back in his jeans and soft cotton shirt. He had rearranged the furniture in the hotel suite that was their home for the next little while and was already quite comfortable in it.
It took Winter longer to relax in a new location, and she was feeling uneasy now, too, for neither Sebastian nor Nathaniel was taking her latest news well.
Winter had left Finka on Hollywood Boulevard, along with the name of her hotel, which Finka had verified using Winter’s cellphone to check that she was a guest.
“You told her, just like that?” Sebastian asked. There were only the faintest sounds of incredulity in his voice.
“It was that, or she goes to the media. She said she had it all written down. A whole book’s worth. With names, dates, photos. Documented. The lot. Including everything my brothers ever told her.”
Nial pulled at the flesh over the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, like he was very tired, or stressed. “And you believed her,” he said flatly.
“I let her think I believed her,” Winter amended, “so that I could get away from her and do something about it.”
“What does she want?” Sebastian asked. He did sound tired.
“Her brother is dying. A rare blood disorder. He has weeks left and the doctors have given up.” Winter shrugged. “He’s the only family Finka has left. The only relative who made it out of Serbia.”
Nial glanced at Sebastian. Then he cleared his throat. “I assume that ‘Morana’ means ‘winter’ in Serbian?” he asked.
Winter stared at him, her heart jumping. Why the change of subject over to something so trivial?
No one knew Nial very well. Sebastian knew him best, but Winter was starting to catch up with a vengeance, especially in the last year with all the work they were doing to neutralize the Pro Libertatis and to bring vampires out safely. She had seen Nial strategizing and watched how his mind worked up close and very personal.
So she knew now that he had changed the subject because
he was covering up his real thought processes. He didn’t want to continue down the path he had been following.
Why not?
Winter made herself answer his superficial question, aware that she had taken too long to answer already. “Actually, it’s Croatian. Morana was the goddess of death and winter. My father found my name more and more ironic, later on, as the war set in.” She sighed. “I was too young to understand it fully, but I think he saw me as a curse, in the end. An evil hex on the family and the city. I brought the war on them by my talent and by my name.”
Sebastian blew out a heavy breath.
Winter looked directly at Nial. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
He lifted a brow.
“You changed the subject by asking about my name, Nial. What are you hiding?”
Sebastian glanced at him and grinned. “You married her. That’s the price you pay. No more secrets.”
Nial stood up. He wasn’t smiling. “If that’s the price, I’ll happily pay it. But you may not like it right now, Winter.”
“I’m already not liking it. I haven’t been happy since I walked in the door. You two have been treating me like a witch at the inquisition.”
“There isn’t a thumbscrew or a rack in sight,” Sebastian said. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Not much,” Winter shot back. “I came to you both as my husbands, expecting support and empathy. Instead, I get the third degree and professional criticism.”
“You deserve it,” Nial replied.
“Nial,” Sebastian chided.
“No, Bastian. I won’t spare her.” Nial didn’t even turn to look at Sebastian as he spoke. He kept his gaze steady upon her face.
Winter swallowed, her pulse leaping, for anger was clear in Nial’s eyes, now. It seemed to leap around him. She focused inwards, intending to soothe her heart and restore inner peace.
“Don’t you dare calm yourself down,” Nial said, his voice low and controlled. “I want your heart racing. I want you angry, defensive and guilty, damn it!”
“Nial, for gods’ sake.” Sebastian uncurled himself from the sofa and stood up, a deep frown drawing a channel between his brows. “What has Winter done?”
Winter licked her lips, staying very still on the dining chair.
Nial studied her. “Why don’t you tell him?” he asked dryly.
“I...I don’t know what you want me to say.” And she didn’t. But she had a feeling that she soon would. Nial had seen four moves ahead of her and somehow, this ugly mess was her fault.
“This Finka Zupan knew you in Serbia and just happened to know about your talent. She moves to the States and suddenly, after twenty years, decides that you’re not dead after all, so she’s going to look you up and make you save her brother.” Nial crossed his arms. “What made her decide that you didn’t die in Serbia, Winter? That was supposed to be a complete cut-off. You assured us it was, that no one could possibly know you survived the bombs and were alive in the States. But Finka did, and she went out of her way to find you.”
Sebastian was studying her now. “I bet she hired an agency to find you, too,” he added. “So now there are records linking Morana in Serbia with Winter in the States.”
Nial nodded. “What’s the connection, Winter? Why did she know you were still alive? Why was she so certain she could pay to find you here in the States when her brother got sick?”
A hot wave of emotions washed over her as Winter put together the answer to Nial’s probing questions. The wash of emotions was a thick mix: horror, disgust, dismay...and guilt.
For Nial was right. This was her fault. Nial had seen four moves ahead and had anticipated this, as soon as Winter had told them Finka had stopped her on Hollywood Boulevard and used her old name.
Winter closed her eyes. “Oh shit...” she whispered.
“Ah,” Nial said. “You’ve remembered.” He didn’t sound like he was enjoying her humiliation all that much, either.
Winter looked up at him. Nial shook his head. “So you couldn’t resist reaching back, could you?” he said softly.
Sebastian made a low sound, deep in the back of his throat. He sank back onto the sofa. “You went back there,” he said. “Back to Belgrade.”
Winter shook her head. “No! Hell, I’m not that stupid! Even before I met you two, I knew it was critical that everyone in Serbia continue to think I was dead. I’d got away from there clean cold. It was sheer luck. All my family were dead and the rest of the neighbourhood thought I’d died along with them. I would have, except that I can heal myself. The bomb that took out our house landed in the middle of the night and I crept away from the house before sunlight, before anyone started sifting through the rubble. I never went back.”
“But you did reach back there somehow,” Nial said. “You did something that told someone there you were still alive. What?” His tone was still curt, unforgiving.
Winter drew in a breath. She deserved the butt kicking. “Money,” she said. “I sent money.”
“Via anonymous channels?” Sebastian asked. “Because there’s no such thing, not if the amount is big enough. Someone will always be curious enough to dig and find out who the donor really is.”
Winter nodded. “I know that now. At the time I trusted the foundation’s guarantee of privacy. Like I said, it was before I met either of you. I wanted to help the kids.”
“The orphans from the war?” Nial clarified. He drew in a breath, deliberately. “There will always be wars, Winter. And wars always create orphans, widows, corpses and slaves. You have to acknowledge that and learn to deal with just the battle that is in front of you. If you keep reaching back into your former lives, you end up with dire complications like this one you’ve created.”
“I didn’t know it was a former life, back then!” she snapped. “Christ, Nial, I didn’t even know I was immortal, then! Will you stop being so high and mighty for five minutes and cut me some slack? You’ve been doing this for centuries. This is my first time around. So I made a goddam fucking mistake. So sue me! And for your information, wars don’t make slaves anymore. Update your friggin’ information!”
“Of course there are slaves still,” Nial said. His tone was cold. “There are more slaves now than there have ever been in human history. They just aren’t paraded in people’s front parlours as a family asset. If you think wars don’t make slaves, you are naive.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Could you two hold off mauling each other until I’ve got the popcorn and root beer? This should be good.”
Nial glared at Sebastian.
Sebastian held up a hand. “Second round should be you and Garrett, Nial. Didn’t he accuse you of exactly the same thing you’re smacking Winter around with right now? Lack of due care and diligence with your serial lives?”
Winter felt her jaw slacken as she turned to Nial.
Nial closed his eyes briefly. “Bastian, you’re a son of a bitch.” But there was no heat in his voice at all.
“And I love you, too, you mangy old Roman,” Sebastian told him.
“Then Garrett did give you shit about not taking more care over your identities!” Winter breathed.
Nial grimaced. “I pointed out to him, quite rightly, that if we achieve everything I want to achieve, then we won’t have to worry about fake identities and former lives, so a little laxity now can be afforded.” He scratched at the short hair on the back of his neck, which he still claimed he was not used to, months after it had been cut. “But this is a different thing altogether. I lowered my security standards to please my wife. The people who remember me and would recognize my eyes are all part of our world. It was a calculated risk. Your slip opened you up to blackmail and early exposure to a hostile world that will fail to see you as a person, but as the ultimate cure to every incurable disease known to man. You’ll lose whatever life you might think you deserve, Winter.”
She nodded. This danger had been impressed upon her many times before by Nial and Sebastian. T
hey were long-term thinkers and had seen further ahead than she. They had predicted, as she had not, how humans might react if her talent ever became common knowledge.
“You’ve already had a small taste of it,” Sebastian added. “This Finka...she was persistent?”
Winter remembered the strength in Finka’s fingers when they latched onto her forearm. The absolute conviction in her voice when she caught up with Winter the second time. I don’t care who you are now. I’ve come a long way to find you.
“Yes,” Winter told Sebastian. “She was very persistent. I couldn’t bluff her. She wasn’t listening to me at all. She was desperate.”
Sebastian nodded. “Multiply Finka by a few dozen people every day, with dying spouses, children, parents. All of them not giving a damn about your life. All of them intent on dragging you to their ailing relative, and making you cure them.”
Winter shuddered. She rubbed at her forehead. “How do I fix this? I can’t help her brother. There’s isn’t a way to explain his sudden return to good health. And no way to guarantee he or Finka won’t tell their best friends or families when they’re desperately ill or injured.” She bit her lip. “It won’t end, will it? It’ll keep on going. Even if they have the best intentions never to breathe a word about me, as soon as someone dear to them is hurt or sick, they’ll think of me. The wild card in their pocket.”
Nial drew in a breath that lifted his chest, and let it out. “You see it now.”
“What do I do?” she asked, feeling pathetically useless.
Nial held out his arms and she was more than willing to slide up against his chest and bury her flushed face against his neck. She felt Sebastian’s warmth against her back and closed her eyes. There really was no better place on earth to be than right here between these two men. Her heart slowed and calm returned and she didn’t have to artificially induce it. The internal peace came simply because she was with Nial and Sebastian, touching them.
“Do nothing,” Nial told her, his hands caressing her hips. “Go about your day as you had planned it. Bastian and I will take care of this for you. The woman was to come here?”
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