by A. M. Manay
Birch returned to the house once the plans were made, leaving November and Lord William walking in the garden alone. It would have been almost romantic had they not been so preoccupied. They sat down on a bench, and November screwed up enough courage to lean her head against his broad, blacksmith’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem to be handling this remarkably calmly.”
“I’m pretty freaked out, to be honest. I couldn’t sleep at all after the vision. How am I supposed to act normally around everyone when I know there's a traitor but I don't know who it is?” November asked.
“It’s to your advantage that the people in this house don’t really know how a human like you normally acts. The only ones who may notice something is off are Zinnia and Ben. Even Ben may not. He’s not the most perceptive person,” he replied, his tone betraying a mental eye roll.
“True. And my conversations with Ben are awkward as it is,” she admitted without thinking about what she was saying. She winced as she realized her mistake and hoped she wasn't getting Ben into hot water.
“He’s still flirting with you in spite of your discouragement?” he asked casually.
“Yes,” she allowed. “You knew?”
“Of course. Everyone with eyes and ears knows. Plus, Zinnia told me that she’s been helping you avoid him when I asked her about what I'd heard.”
November sighed. “Of course she did. She’s incapable of lying. Her ears turn blue whenever she tries.” She shook her head. “I really don’t see how she can be the spy, but better safe than sorry, I guess,” November said with resignation. It would be difficult to get through this without Zinnia’s listening ear and shoulder to cry on.
“I agree, but we must take care. If she is innocent, knowing too much will endanger her as well, and as she cannot keep a secret, she might reveal something inadvertently to the wrong person.”
“Do you think it’s Ben?” she asked quietly, knowing so well the antipathy between them.
“I hope it is him. It would spare me from having to kill a friend,” he said with a nonchalant iciness that provoked a trickle of fear down her spine. “But honestly, I doubt it. Would you trust him with something that important? I barely trust him to pick up my dry cleaning.” November hoped he was right. Some part of her prayed that it would be one she barely knew, like Amy or Josue.
William paused before continuing, “I must head back to my office, lovely girl. I don’t suppose I could get a kiss goodnight?” he asked teasingly. November laughed out loud and obliged him. His hands brushed against her back and her hair for one delicious moment. “I’m glad you can still laugh. I’ll see you later,” he promised, wiggling his eyebrows goofily as he walked off. Somehow, that little kiss made her feel better when she had thought nothing could.
Chapter 7
November developed a fondness for the hot tub in the well-manicured back garden. It was a touch too chilly this late in the fall to swim in the pool, well-heated though it was. But the steam rising from the spa was always enticing to a girl who hated to be cold and had spent far too many hours of her life shivering for lack of money for heat. She liked to stroll out there in the late afternoon in her fuzzy slippers, wrapped up in a thick robe over the most modest swimsuit she could find. Pine would trail behind her, of course, ever vigilant. She'd soak as long as she could stand it, watching the sky or the birds, turning things over in her mind. Generally, she emerged bright pink and pruney before the sun set, so she could be dressed before the vampires rose.
This particular afternoon, however, time got away from her. The sun set, and fog began to roll in off the bay. The novel she'd brought out had been so engaging, and suddenly she looked up to see William emerging from the mist, wearing a swimsuit.
She gulped and nearly dropped the paperback into the water. Her surprise must have registered on her face, for he grinned and asked, "What? A man can't use his own hot tub of an evening?"
"No. I mean, yes. I mean, um, hi?" she stammered, grateful for the jets and bubbles that partially hid her from his eyes. She tried to look at him without looking. He was all muscle, the rest of him as pale and freckled as his face. The hair on his chest was the same bright red as the hair on his head and could not hide a couple of jagged scars. November wondered if he had acquired them before or after his first death. Can a vampire scar?
William slid into the water next to her, which only added to her nervousness. She looked up to find Pine, only to see that he had disappeared. William caught her at it, saying, "I figured he could use a short break."
"Right . . ." She couldn't figure out where to rest her gaze. She took a deep breath and tried to relax. You see him every day. What is the matter with you?
"I got your email. Nice work," he said. He seemed amused at her skittishness.
"Thanks." What is happening right now? Did we just jump from a little kissing to making out in a hot tub? Is that what we're doing?
He reached over and tucked a tendril of wet hair behind her ear. "Good book?"
"What? Oh, right. The book. Um, yeah, it's a page turner," she managed as he reached his hand over to her chin and gently turned her face toward his own. His hand felt so cold against her flushed skin, his lips so deliciously cool as he pressed them against hers. To her delight, she stayed in the moment rather than falling into a vision. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks that her gift worked so differently with vampires than it did with humans. She had to choose to look, and right now, she had zero interest in William's secrets.
He cradled the back of her head with one hand as he ran his thumb over her cheekbone, along her jaw, and down her throat. He whispered, "You are especially lovely tonight." His cold breath against her ear gave her goose bumps even in the steaming water.
"Thank you," she whispered back, not knowing what else to say, barely breathing as she waited to see what he would do next, hoping the steam hid them from prying eyes. His arm slid behind her back and drew her close to him.
"Of course, I might be biased by the fact that you're wearing a lot fewer clothes than usual," he continued as he ran his fangs down the side of her neck, causing her breath to catch in her throat. "Though I do wish I could see you better," he added, reaching over to turn off the jets. She tried to stifle a whimper as he kissed her collarbone. She could practically hear him smile at the effect he was having on her, which she might have found annoying had she not been so distracted.
He drew away for a moment to have a good look at her: her slender, young body flush with warmth and excitement, her blue swimsuit the same shade as her eyes, her chest swelling with each breath.
He returned his mouth to hers, and she found the courage to return his kiss in earnest, one hand pressed against his chest and the other running through his hair, feeling the soft red curls between her fingers as she came up for air. His hand crept halfway up her bare thigh, somehow stopping just shy of where she might have drawn away in fear. He ran a finger down the strap of her bikini top, moving slowly enough that she could have stopped him if she had wanted to. He traced the edges of the fabric down to the clasp on her sternum. She held her breath.
"Lord William?" came a voice out of the mist.
November jumped back as if burned, flying across the spa with a splash as she grabbed frantically at her top to make sure it was still fastened. Frustration flashed across William's face before he answered, "Over here, Birch," without bothering to hide his irritation.
Birch appeared and assessed the situation with one glance. November looked away in a vain effort at nonchalance. Birch kept a straight face as he reported vaguely, "Sorry, sir, but there is something that requires your urgent attention."
"Isn't there always? I'll be right in," he said, waving his lieutenant away. Birch nodded and disappeared back into the fog.
William turned back to November and smiled. With vampire speed, he was once again back at her side, holding her close with one hand as the other cupped her breast. She could barely breathe. "The burd
ens of leadership are sometimes very heavy," he murmured against her neck. "Do you feel what you are doing to me?" he asked, pressing his hardness against her, making her gasp.
And then he disappeared, leaping from the water and running toward the house faster than her human eyes could follow, leaving her alone, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know whether she ought to thank Birch or throw things at him. She could still feel William's cold hands on her fevered skin. She looked up at the sky, pressing one hand to her bare stomach, trying to slow her breathing, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. What have I gotten myself into? Yet she couldn't help smiling. What have I gotten myself into, indeed?
Finally, she dragged herself out of the water. After a cool shower during which she finished for herself what William had started, she felt almost ready to concentrate on her work for the night, hoping no one could read on her face what she'd been up to, hoping Savita couldn't see in her thoughts why she was so distracted as they studied another case file.
Life was in a precarious sort of limbo when Halloween arrived a few days later. There had been no further revelations, and November had managed to regain her calm. The vampires were planning to paint the town on the one night of the year they could let their fangs show, and the fairies were excited to go with them and dance the night away with their protection. November, however, was still confined to the house. Lord William wanted there to be no opportunity for further kidnapping attempts. She was beginning to get a bit of cabin fever. She was used to living life on the road, setting up in a different town every week. The house and grounds were lovely and had come to feel like home, but she’d covered every inch of it dozens of times in the previous few weeks.
Still, confinement was preferable to mortal peril, and she was resigned to a quiet evening at home while her friends went out gallivanting. Zinnia had offered to stay in with her, but it was obvious that the fairy was craving a night of clubbing, and November told her to go ahead and have a good time. She planned to watch a movie and eat ice cream. These were not the most exciting plans for a girl who would turn eighteen at midnight, but it was certainly much better than many of her birthdays. She wondered who would get stuck babysitting her, hoping that Lord William would take the task on himself. She was equal parts excited and frightened of the prospect of being alone in the house with him.
Their little romance was progressing in stolen chunks of time, here and there, when they could find a moment alone. One particular morning had found them entwined in a corner of the garden, hands sneaking under clothes, fangs scraping across the skin of her neck, her shoulder, the inside of her wrist, until the sun had chased William away.
She was finishing up her lunch after dusk when Lord William came into the kitchen. She smiled at him, secretly hoping he might remember her birthday, but he was all business. “November,” he said somberly, “there’s something in the library I need you to take a look at right away.” November hid a grimace and quickly got up to follow him. As serious as his face was, she feared that her task would not be a pleasant one.
He opened the door to the library, holding it for her and gesturing for her to enter. As soon as she passed through, the decked-out housemates who had made such a show of leaving fifteen minutes earlier jumped out from behind the furniture, yelling, “Surprise!” November burst out laughing, delighted and indeed surprised.
“Not much of a psychic, apparently,” Josue teased as they all crowded around to wish her a happy birthday.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” November protested, amused at all the pink and purple balloons festooning the normally hyper-masculine library. “Thank you.”
“It was mostly Zinnia, of course,” Lord William admitted. The fairy in question walked over to give her recently acquired best friend a birthday hug.
“We had to do something! We couldn’t just abandon you to boredom for your birthday,” she said gleefully.
“I don’t want you all to miss your big night out,” November protested.
“Fear not; the night is young,” Ben replied. “We’ll go out after presents and cake, though it will be no fun without you.” Lord William rolled his eyes behind the boy’s back. November struggled not to laugh at that incongruously modern gesture.
Ben had bought her a Kindle Fire and gotten most everyone to buy her books for it, which November found quite sweet and thoughtful, especially given how awkward things were between them sometimes. Zinnia bucked the trend and gave her a beautiful necklace of pastel gemstones. It seemed to glow from within. “I made it,” her friend told her proudly, and November was suitably impressed with her magical companion. “Fairies like to make shiny stuff that glows,” Zinnia explained.
Finally, she came to Lord William’s gift. She knew that it would be too much as soon as she saw the box. She opened it with trepidation to find a pair of diamond earrings that must have cost a fortune. It was far too extravagant, and she said so. “Nonsense. You’ll need something to wear for the Christmas parties with the king,” he countered, kissing her on the forehead. “We don’t want you to be embarrassed in the company of the court. It would reflect badly on me,” he said with a wink. Ben glowered behind William’s back as his gift was upstaged.
After November blew out her candles and ate the solitary gourmet cupcake Rose had picked up for her, most everyone departed, leaving her alone in the house with Lord William. “Do you still want to watch that movie?” he asked once the exodus was complete.
“Sure,” she said, wondering just how much of the movie would actually get watched. “Let me put these gifts away in my room, and I’ll meet you in the theater.”
She skipped up the stairs. This was shaping up to be the best birthday on record. She was stashing her gifts when an envelope on her bed caught her eye. She opened it, thinking it was a birthday card. Inside was a piece of paper and an antique-looking medallion, perhaps of a saint. On the paper was written one sentence that made her heart sink: “Ask him about his wife.” She paused as dread poured like ice water into her open heart. She finally took the medallion in her hand and closed her fingers over it. Her stomach turned over as she was sucked into vision.
A beautiful young woman with curly black hair dances with William on the deck of a ship, by the light of another ship aflame on the sea. Her brown eyes flash. Her bronze skin glows. They kiss, and the kiss turns to more. They stand together in front of a priest, a lacy veil failing to conceal her gleaming fangs. The years fly by, the centuries, as they are bound together by a palpable love.
The woman is enjoying the company of friends, laughing and smiling. An explosion tears through the room, shredding everyone in its path. Blood and light pour out of the wounded. The dying vampires turn to piles of ash illuminated by the flashes of light from the fairy dead. The woman lays half crushed in a pool of blood, screaming in pain before she loses consciousness. She does not turn to ash.
November rose to the surface and returned to the present. She dropped the medallion on her coverlet, looking down on her hand to see the red impression it had left as she had tightened her hand around it. Dizzy, she sank to the floor and put her head between her knees, her tears dripping silently onto the carpet.
She barely heard when William called up the stairs, “Are you alright?” When she didn’t respond, he ran with vampire speed up to her room. “What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling beside her. She flinched when he reached out to touch her forearm.
November reached over her head to grab the letter and the medallion, handing them both to him. “Where did you get this charm? This should be in my bedchamber,” he demanded, anger in his voice.
“Someone left it for me, with that note,” she said. Her voice was even, almost affectless, as it often became when she was deeply upset. Something inside her just shut down at such moments. She stared straight ahead, not looking at him.
William read the note. He closed his eyes for a moment. November could practically see the wheels turning. “My wife died in an att
ack, in Montana. She was there to visit some friends.”
“No, she didn’t. I just saw it. She passed out, but she didn't turn to ash. If she had, you would have mentioned her to me. And I would be looking at evidence of an attack in Montana when I work with Savita. But I wasn’t even told that there was an attack in Montana. Which indicates to me that you’re hiding something about it. Your wife is alive. Alive but wounded. Isn't she?” She finally looked William in the eye, and he could see that there was no way out but the truth.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“How could you think I wouldn’t find that out eventually? The entire reason I’m here is that I’m a psychic!” She tried to grab hold of her rage as she began to feel again. Rage was better than pain or humiliation.
“We’ve told everyone that my wife died, to try to protect her from a repeat attack. We think that she was the primary target. Only Savita, Birch, and my father know that she’s being taken care of in secret, under a different name. It will take the better part of a year for her limbs to grow back.” Em was beyond relieved to find out that Zinnia had not known. That was one betrayal that she could never have borne. “Savita warned me not to do this to you. So did Birch. Sometimes I am too arrogant and stubborn to listen when I should.” November was mortified and furious at the thought of Savita and Birch being aware of this mess but glad to know that they had not approved of it. “Married vampires often take human lovers. It is normal among us,” he argued weakly. “Most humans do not object.”
“Most humans get mind-raped into not objecting to a damn thing you people do! And if you really thought I wouldn’t mind, you wouldn’t have hidden her from me. You were just hoping that by the time I found out I would be too in love with you to care. Isn’t that right?” November was merciless with herself. Since her heart was breaking, it seemed better to just smash it and get all of the pain over with. William’s silence answered for him. “Why? What did I do to make you want to hurt me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”
