by Мишель Роуэн
Quinn glanced at Janie, who watched them like a predator. She absently played with her turquoise necklace, twisting it, and his vision closed to the small pulse he could see in her throat. He tore his eyes away from her, breathing heavily. "I think I need to sit down."
Malcolm frowned. "Are you well, boy? You look as if you haven't slept in weeks."
"I'm fine." The backs of his legs found the edge of a chair at the kitchen table, and he sat down hard. He placed the red stone on the tabletop in front of him.
"No, you're not. You aren't sustaining your strength. Are you refusing to drink blood?"
Quinn grimaced. "Whenever I can."
Malcolm shook his head. "As distasteful as the thought might be for you, it is a necessary evil. It took me years to understand that simply because I ingested something my body required to survive, it didn't make me a lesser being. It didn't make me a monster."
"I feel like a monster." He felt Janie's silent and appraising gaze from the other side of the table.
"You're not." Malcolm patted his back. "You… and I… are a new breed. We are two of the few who have seen the world from both sides. As hunter and vampire. And we can use that knowledge to now find the Eye together."
"I just wish you could have contacted me. To tell me you were all right."
"And what if I had?" he asked. "What if I had called you one night to tell you I was in town? That I was alive, only now a vampire. What would you have done then?"
Quinn closed his eyes and shook his head.
"You would have killed me," Malcolm said bluntly. "Or you would have told people who would have done it for you. I had no choice. I had to leave and put as much distance between myself and my past as was possible. And I've done exactly that. I've had the past eight years to think and to plan." He held out his hand. "Give me the stone."
Janie reached over to grab it before Quinn could. He looked at her. "Janie—"
"I've had just about enough with this little Transylvanian family reunion," she snapped. "I want the Eye."
Malcolm raised an eyebrow and smiled patiently at her. "Whatever for?"
She stared at him. "Because it'll really go with my outfit."
His frowned and then glanced at Quinn before turning his attention fully on Janie. "You're a mercenary. I don't know why I didn't spot it before." He shook his head. "A beautiful woman such as yourself should not have chosen such a dangerous path. Whoever may have hired you will have to do without the Eye."
"We'll see about that, vampire." She smiled coldly at him.
"Indeed, we will. However, without the stone in your hand, I won't be able to find it for anyone." He held out his hand, palm side up.
She studied him for a long moment before finally, grudgingly, giving him the stone.
Malcolm held his other hand out to Quinn. "Now the letter, if you please."
Without hesitation, Quinn dug into his pocket and gave him the worn piece of paper.
Malcolm laid the paper flat on the table with the printed side down, smoothing it out. Then he went over to a cupboard and opened it up, reaching in to draw out another, matching piece of paper.
"What's that?" Quinn asked.
"Just another piece of the puzzle." He laid it next to the other piece.
"What do you mean?"
Malcolm smiled. "The true location of the Eye has been cloaked until now to any who would search for it—who wish to use its magic for their own gain. It requires two immortal beings—such as you and me—using this stone to reveal its true location. The Eye is out there, Quinn, in plain sight for those who don't wish to harness its powers but invisible to those who do. It's waiting for us."
Quinn watched, fascinated, as Malcolm took the stone, symbol side down, and rubbed it in along the seam of the two pieces of paper. As the rock glided over the surface, the two fused into one single piece as if they had always been joined.
"I have waited to do this for a very long time," he said with a sparkle in his blue eyes. He turned the larger piece of paper over to the printed side and began to rub the rock over it. The writing began to disappear, instead being replaced with lines and shapes that appeared as if out of nowhere.
"What are you doing?"
"Revealing the true location of the Eye. My original search for the Eye led me to this stone wrapped with this paper. It's a map. It wasn't until later that I discovered that it would be revealed only with two immortals present, at the right time, during this ritual." He shook his head and looked down at the old paper, his eyes glistening with emotion.
Quinn couldn't believe his eyes. It was a full-fledged treasure map. And it had appeared magically when
Malcolm ran the stone over it, as if it had been written in magical invisible ink. He shook his head and looked at Malcolm, his heart swelling. This was turning out to be the best day of his life. Finding the Eye and finding Malcolm after all this time. He wasn't sure which was better.
Malcolm beamed at him. "You see? Now the Eye will belong to both of us. I see great things for our future."
Quinn glanced at Janie. Her eyes had widened at what had just happened, and she stared at the map on the table. Malcolm went to cover it up and pull it away, but she grabbed the corner of it.
"I'm going to need this," she said.
Quinn stood up from the table. "Take your hands off that, Janie. I'm warning you."
She glared at him but didn't let go of the map. "Is that right? You'rewarning me?"
Suddenly Malcolm grimaced and let go of the paper. With a sharp gasp of pain, he clutched his chest.
Janie's face fell. "What's wrong with you?"
"I get pain sometimes," he explained through clenched teeth. "So much pain."
"But you're a vampire, aren't you?" She frowned, and her determined expression softened slightly.
Quinn made a move to go to Malcolm's side, but the old man held up his hand to stop him.
"No, I'll be fine in a moment," Malcolm said. He looked at Janie. "But… could you be so kind as to pour me a glass of water, dear? If you wouldn't mind."
She hesitated, frowning, but then moved toward the cupboard, the map still clutched in her hand. Her shoulders were tense as she reached up to grab a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap.
While she did this, Malcolm straightened up his posture, closed the small distance between them, and with one smooth motion swung his cane at the back of Janie's head.
The sound of her body falling heavily to the ground covered Quinn's gasp.
Malcolm turned to him. "It had to be done, I'm afraid."
He struggled to keep his face expressionless. He blinked rapidly, not quite registering what he'd just witnessed.
Malcolm looked down at Janie's unconscious form. "Even as a mercenary, she was a minor inconvenience until she saw the map."
He licked his dry lips. "Of course you're right."
Malcolm clutched Quinn's shoulder and squeezed it hard. "You and I will follow the map to the Eye.
Together. Then we will change the world."
"Change the world?" He glanced down at Janie out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't moving. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. Had he killed her? His jaw clenched at the thought.
"Vampires are evil," Malcolm said simply. "I feel the darkness inside me. Don't you? But I have been blessed with my intelligence. I can take what I've learned and use it to save others."
Quinn swallowed hard. "I think the hunters have that under control. Don't you think they're the ones who are evil? Has that ever occurred to you?"
Malcolm put a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Yes, of course. Hunters can be just as bad as vampires. With the Eye in our possession, we can change things. Make things better. Don't you see?"
Use the Eye to help others. Not only himself.
It was a thought.
He finally forced a nod. "What's our first move?"
"First you must regain your strength." He nodded down at Janie. "Take her. Drain her. If she isn't dead,
kill her. It must be done."
His stomach lurched. "So you're saying you don't get pizza delivery out here?"
Feeling like throwing up sometimes worked to kick in Quinn's defense mechanisms—in this case, his sense of humor. Hismorbid sense of humor.
Malcolm nodded gravely. "In the beginning, I, too, fought it until I was weak and at the point of starvation. It is a losing battle. I will tell you one thing, the more I drink, the better I feel. I need the strength to keep fighting." He looked down at Janie. "Now, eat her."
"But it's only our first date." He forced a smile that masked the storm going on inside him. A joke—yes, a joke to lighten the mood and give him a second to think things through.
He glanced down at the prone Janie, her throat naked and exposed to the air.
His fangs ached.
He glanced at Malcolm. "I don't feel right doing this with an audience."
"I knew the moment I saw her that despite her beauty she was one of the evildoers. I would be willing to bet that her selfish deeds have hurt and killed many over the years. Don't feel any guilt for what you are about to do."
Quinn stared at Malcolm for a moment and then nodded without saying anything.
The old man grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and jotted something down. "Take these directions to a place in downtownPhoenix . Meet me there at nine p.m. tonight and we will discuss what our next step will be."
Quinn took the paper and looked at it briefly before shoving it into his pocket.
Malcolm's kindly eyes crinkled. "Everything will be fine now, Quinn. Now that we have each other."
He snatched the map from the floor next to Janie, rolled it up, and tucked it inside his shirt. Then, with a final nod, he turned away and left the small house. Quinn watched him through the window as he walked down the pathway out front and disappeared into the distance.
Then he sank to his knees beside Janie.
"Hey"—he brushed the hair off her forehead—"are you okay?"
Her utter silence gave him his answer.
He pressed two fingers against her jugular and was relieved to feel a pulse.
The woman was willing to kill him and Barkley—not to mention Malcolm—at the drop of a hat, and he was concerned for her well-being. He shook his head at his own lack of self-preservation, but it didn't change anything. He wasn't just going to let her die if he could do something about it.
The back of her head was bleeding from where Malcolm had hit her with the cane. His concern was then mixed with a hot line of hunger that wrenched his stomach. There was blood on his fingers. Her blood.
"Christ," he swore. Then he stood up so quickly he felt dizzy.
Drain her, Malcolm had said.
He ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. He'd gone too long without blood. Just the sight of it was making him feel crazy.
Malcolm had always been the one who gave him advice. Great advice. When he was a teen about to go out on his first date. After his first time. After his first kill. Malcolm had never, not once, steered him wrong. Never let him down in a lifetime of being lied to.
Malcolm took what he wanted, and he obviously felt no remorse about it.
Janie's blood. The sight and the smell of it was making him feel more than hunger. It was more… sensual than that.
He got down on his knees again next to her and rubbed his face along the line of her neck, smelling her.
She smelled so good. So very, very good. Sweet… like apple pie and ice cream. He licked along the pulse in her throat because he couldn't help himself.
Dammit. He clenched his jaw.Keep it together .
He pulled way from her, swearing loudly.
The woman was injured, and all he could think about was how good she'd taste.
Then a thought poked through the heavy layer of bloodlust he was fighting.
She'd been nothing but trouble and a huge pain in his ass ever since she'd bungee jumped into his life earlier that afternoon. This was his chance to end his misery once and for all.
He'd planned to knock her out himself, anyway. Malcolm had saved him the bother.
He looked at her again, all sprawled out unconscious on the tiled floor of Malcolm's kitchen. She looked so innocent. So attractive.
So delicious.
So what if he drank from her? It's not like she was an innocent. Just lean in. Like a kiss. Nuzzle into the warmth of her neck. Feel the firmness of her skin a moment before it gave way to his fangs.
The world began to narrow in on him until there was only him and her.
No one would ever know.
Malcolm wouldn't tell anybody. Maybe he knew how it really was. He'd never steered him wrong before.
He felt his small fangs begin to elongate. It felt really good—as if they should always be that way.
The line in the road he'd drawn for himself between right and wrong began to blur as the world darkened and he ran his tongue along the pulse of her neck again.
Yes. This is the way it should be. Just like this.
But a moment after his teeth grazed the surface of her skin, he drew back, horrified by what he'd almost done. He pushed back from her and away, scrambling to his feet. He ran outside and threw up next to a five-foot cactus whose pink flowers seemed to be mocking him.
Chapter 7
The last thing she remembered was opening a bottle of cheap, generic water. But then she'd thought—what difference did it make what the packaging looked like? It was all just water. Like what you can already get out of a tap.
Then she'd obviously died and gone to hell.
The blazing pain in her head rivaled any migraine she'd ever had. The only thing similar was that time she'd been knocked unconscious by that pissed-off banshee on an assignment last year. What a bitch she'd been. Wouldn't stop with the screaming.
She opened her eyes slowly. Everything was blurry. Her vision slowly came into focus until she realized she was still in Malcolm's house.
"Whhaaa… ?" Her mouth felt dry. A little of that generic water might be nice right now.
"You're awake. Finally."
A voice. She knew that voice. She liked that voice. Too bad it was currently beating into her head like a bolt of lightning.
"Not so… not so loud…"
Janie felt a cool, wet cloth press gently against the back of her head. It made her realize that she was sitting up. In a chair. A straight-backed chair that wasn't padded.
"You've stopped bleeding. Trust me, that's a very good thing for both of us."
"Bleeding?"
"Malcolm knocked you out cold. You're lucky you're not dead."
Being dead would solve so many problems, she thought absently.
"No, it wouldn't," Quinn said.
Shit. Did she say that out loud?
Wake up, she commanded herself.No time for napping on the job .
"He knocked me out?" she managed. "That old man? He seemed so frail and nice."
"Vampires aren't frail. But some of them are nice."
"Are you one of them?"
"Definitely not." He shifted position. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
She frowned and concentrated. "One."
"That's right. Which one?"
"Your middle one. Very funny.Ow ."
She went to hold her aching head in her hands but then realized she couldn't move. That was strange. It didn't make sense for a moment through her still-woozy consciousness.
The world around her became clearer with every passing moment.
She glared up at him. "You tied me up?"
Quinn shrugged and didn't look the least bit sorry. "Trust me, you got off easy."
Her hands were tied firmly behind her back. Her ankles were bound to the chair legs.
She pulled at the binding until her wrists hurt. "Untie me."
"Not just yet."
"I'm critically injured. I might have a concussion."
"I'm sure you do. He hit you really hard. Thank God you're blessed
with an incredibly thick skull."
"Save the compliments and untie me."
"You need to call Lenny and tell him to let Barkley go."
She shook her head, more from confusion than denial, and it hurt like a son of a bitch. "Ow. Untie me and we'll talk about it."
"I'll hold the phone to your ear."
Janie eyed the room. "Where's Malcolm now? Is he going to come out here and taunt me with his glass of water?"
"He's gone."
"Where did he go?"
Quinn hesitated. "I don't know."
"You're a shitty liar."
"I'm a very good liar."
"Liar." She grimaced against the throbbing pain. A nap would be nice. Three or four days might do the trick.
"What's Lenny's number?"
Her eyes snapped back open. "You're serious."
He nodded.
"I'm not telling you."
"Then this is going to be a long wait. Just to remind you, I am immortal now. I will definitely win."
She strained against the bindings to no avail and looked around the room again—her level of anxiety growing with every passing second. "Where's the map?"
"Malcolm took it."
Her stomach dropped. "Hewhat ?"
"He took it with him."
"How could you let him do that?"
"Trust me, it wasn't an easy choice."
A thought occurred to her. "You stayed to take care of me?"
Quinn cocked his head to one side and studied her. "Malcolm wanted me to feed off you and then break your neck. He didn't specify the breaking of the neck, but it would have been my choice if I'd decided to take him up on his suggestion. Very quick death. You wouldn't have felt a thing."
A chill ran down her spine at his words. He could have killed her, and she wouldn't have been able to do anything to save herself. She hated feeling like a victim.
But he hadn't killed her.
She focused on her neck. Could she feel anything?
"Did you bite me?" she finally asked.
