“He kept the notebook as evidence,” Amber finished. “But he let me copy some of it. I haven’t been able to figure out what kind of language it is. I haven’t found anything like it on the Internet and not in books, and no one I know has ever seen it.”
“Show it to me,” Adrian said. “I’m something of a linguist.”
Amber nodded and rose, taking her box of accoutrements, and went upstairs to her bedroom to fetch the papers. The room next to hers, which she and Susan had used as a workroom, was cluttered with preparation for Beltane—ribbons, garlands, candles, and robes that Susan would never wear waited. Amber wiped tears from her eyes as she thought of the celebration she and Susan were to have hosted together, as they did every year.
Can’t cry right now, she told herself. I want to find the bastard who killed her, and if this Adrian can help, let him. We’ll make her killer pay, and at Beltane we’ll dedicate the entire celebration to Susan.
Amber carried the papers back downstairs to the kitchen. She found Sabina leaning across the kitchen table talking to Adrian in a fervent manner, her words too low for Amber to hear. Adrian listened as he lounged back in his chair, his long legs barely fitting under the table, fingers negligently holding his coffee cup.
He looked utterly at home here at the same time he overwhelmed the kitchen like an ancient god, maybe Dionysus, god of wine and revelry, who’d decided to relax and stay awhile.
Strange that she was thinking of Beltane rituals, which involved the coupling God and Goddess, and now Dionysus. When Adrian looked up and caught her eye, heat burned swiftly through her. Why did his eyes have to be so sinful? They were deep and black, impenetrable, as though they held ancient secrets. They were eyes she could stare into for a long, long time.
Sabina broke off when she noted Amber in the doorway and sat back down, taking an innocent sip of coffee. Amber plopped the pages in front of Adrian, with effort not looking into his eyes.
“The copies probably aren’t that great,” Amber said. “I was in a hurry and I didn’t know what I was writing.”
Adrian nodded absently as he perused the paper, his lashes flicking as he took in the words. “This script is very old.”
“Like Old English you mean?” Sabina leaned to him, her breasts pressing the table’s edge. “Like Beowulf?”
“Far older than that.”
“Egyptian?” Amber asked. “Not hieroglyphs but the script—what’s it called—hieratic?”
“Older even than that,” Adrian answered. “This is a script from before the rise of human civilizations.”
“How can that be?” Amber asked, sitting down again. “You have human civilization and then you have writing, not the other way around.”
“I didn’t say the writing was human.”
Amber’s gaze froze to him. “Demon, you mean?”
“Maybe. I can’t decipher it, at least not here. I’ll need resources. And the rest of the page.”
Amber poured more tea into her cup from the small teapot on the table. “I was lucky to get that, and only because I talked to Detective Simon hard and fast.”
“I might convince him to give up more.”
Sabina gave him a skeptical look. “Could you? Why is that?”
“Let’s just say I have a way with people.”
“Does it have anything to do with your snake?” Amber gestured to the silver cobra coiled around his upper arm. The sleeves of his T-shirt were cut short, baring the smooth bulge of his biceps, probably to accommodate the armlet. “What is your interest anyway? I’m grateful that you saved my life tonight, but I have to ask why you’re so adamant to know what happened to Susan.”
“Because this goes beyond your sister’s death,” Adrian answered. “Something larger is going on, and I want to know what.”
“Something larger?” Amber didn’t like that. She had been noticing in the last months that the number of vampires in town had increased, that shadows seemed to lengthen, that dark alleys had become darker and people stayed indoors more at night, unusual because the weather was finally becoming warmer.
Adrian leaned forward a little, strong fingers cradling his coffee mug. “You feel it, too.”
Amber gave him a reluctant nod. Sabina frowned as though she had no idea what they were talking about.
“Death magic is growing in strength,” Adrian said. “It should not be—the balance between life magic and death magic should remain in perfect equilibrium. If it grows too strong, and the balance is tipped . . .” He held his hand palm up, then flipped it over, his eyes somber. “Things could get bad. I mean very bad, like it hasn’t been since this writing was created.”
Amber touched the scrawled words, which seemed to twist into sinister lines before her eyes. She wondered again where the hell Susan had come across it, and why her sister, one of the most talented and careful witches Amber knew, had decided to copy a demon script into her working notebooks.
She also wondered why Adrian was so familiar with it, and what his connection was with the demon. She looked into his eyes as she sat back in her chair, but whatever he knew, he hid and hid well.
* * *
Adrian watched Amber tense, her anger turning to worry. She puzzled him, because his magic should be able to make her relax and speak to him readily. No direct manipulation, just a gentle nudge to make her talk to him and answer questions without terror. But whenever he tried to influence her in any way, Amber rose beyond his touch as though she never noticed him nudging.
Adrian alone of his brothers had the power of making people trust him—each brother had a talent the others lacked. Not that any of them used their magic often—he and his brothers came when Called, killed the threat, and departed.
At least, that’s how it was supposed to go. Adrian and his brothers had soon discovered they enjoyed staying after the battle was over, dancing at the victory feast, answering the unspoken offers of young women with sly eyes. Adrian liked drinking wine and talking with grateful people, sharing their joy that death magic wouldn’t carry off the children tonight or that the world wouldn’t be destroyed for at least another day.
For the last seven hundred years, since he’d lost Tain and decided not to return to Ravenscroft where the Immortals lived and trained, Adrian had dwelled in this world among humans. He’d never settled in one place for long, leaving before people got too worried that he never aged. But even living among humans, he still hadn’t been able to become like them, to enter into their world of families and close friendships. He was forever an outsider, unable to relate to anyone except his brothers, and even then he couldn’t say he’d been close to any of them except Tain.
He glanced at the page of writing again, mundane notebook paper and ballpoint ink, tracing shapes of letters so ancient and powerful they didn’t have names. He couldn’t read the words, but he had an idea what they were, and he didn’t like it.
He looked up at Amber. Sweet chiseled face, tawny eyes following his every move. Red, full lips touching her teacup, her brow furrowing the slightest bit as she sipped the hot brew. Fingers long and strong, holding the mug with surety. He wondered how those fingers would feel moving down his torso, finding every hollow of him.
When Amber had been out of the room looking for the paper, the werewolf Sabina had told him with a vicious snarl that if Adrian did the one-night stand thing with Amber, taking advantage of her grief, Sabina would rip out his throat. Sabina had meant it, and as a werewolf, she could certainly do it—or try anyway.
Sabina didn’t need to worry. A one-night stand with Amber wasn’t what Adrian had in mind. Months, maybe, on a tropical island, watching her swim in the waves, laughing at night as they lounged by a fire. Waking up in the morning to see the sun on her face, moonlight licking her body at night.
Not a one-night stand. A very long association and every hour worth it.
It wouldn’t last, though. Nothing lasted for Immortals, only time, and loneliness.
Adrian wanted to contin
ue this conversation with Amber alone, in any case. He glanced at Sabina, brushing her with subtle magic and the suggestion that she leave.
“I should go,” Sabina said. Amber glanced at her in surprise, but Sabina shoved back her chair, clattered her coffee cup to the sink, and headed for the door. “I’ll patrol the green behind our houses and keep an eye on things. And if you need me, just holler. Or scream the house down. I’ll be here.” She shot Adrian a final dark look, then banged the back door closed behind her.
Adrian swallowed the last of his coffee and pushed the cup aside. “I need to shower. I have dried demon blood on me.”
Amber’s eyes flickered at the abrupt change of subject. “Do you need me to drive you somewhere? Are you staying at a hotel?”
Adrian stood up. “No, I’m staying here.”
“Oh, really?” Her gaze flattened.
“I’m not leaving you alone. This house is well warded, and Sabina is watching, but demons are tricky.” He touched the writing. “Your sister likely died because of this. You don’t need to die for it too.”
“Sabina will notice anyone trying to get in and come to help,” Amber said. “She noticed you.”
Adrian shook his head. “She’s not strong enough to fight this demon, and werewolves are mortal, which means she’ll need to sleep sometime.”
“Oh, and you don’t?”
“I do.” Adrian enjoyed a moment visualizing her sleeping next to him, but her steely gaze told him she wanted him nowhere near her bed. “But I can stay awake when necessary. For as long as it’s necessary.”
Amber hesitated, clearly weighing having Adrian stay here against the danger of the demon she’d seen with her own eyes.
“Fine then,” she said, not happy. “The guest bedroom is at the top of the stairs and has an attached bathroom. Towels are in the linen closet at the end of the hall.”
Adrian relaxed a little. He’d fully intended to linger outside and watch the house whether she liked it or not, but things would be easier if he were inside it. “Let me check the house again to make sure all is well, then I’ll take a shower.”
“In that case, I’ll get the towels.”
She had to push past him to get out the door, which meant that they spent a moment in close contact. He slid his arm around her waist, unable to stop himself. If he pulled her against him, they’d just fit, her head tucked under his chin. He felt her heartbeat beneath his arm, speeding like a rabbit’s and not entirely in anger.
“After you,” he said, changing his half-embrace to a gentle push against the small of her back. She flushed and ducked out the door, and Adrian watched her go, grinning to himself.
Adrian walked the house, checking every door and window, while Amber rummaged in the linen cupboard upstairs. He saw her carrying towels, pillows, and sheets into the bedroom at the top of the stairs as he checked the windows in the hall. He found a bedroom farther down from the guest room filled with books, candles, and framed art posters—controlled clutter. He caught a faint whiff of the perfume Amber wore and the lingering odor of life-magic.
The bedroom next to this one had the same kind of organized chaos but also an air of sadness and disuse where there shouldn’t be, tinged with the tiniest hint of death magic. Susan’s room, he guessed.
He touched the wards of the window, letting his magic flow through the symbols drawn there. The runes glowed out of the walls then faded to become invisible to the non-magical.
Adrian reinforced all the wards in that room, then went through to strengthen the wards on the rest of the big house, including those on the staircase that wound to the top of the tower. He felt the history of the place as he wandered it, but none of that history had been gruesome until Susan’s murder. The house held the usual succession of births, deaths, marriages, parties, happiness, sadness—everyday life.
Amber was still in the guest bathroom when he finished, running the water in the shower stall to get it warm for him. In an old house like this one, hot water would chug slowly through the pipes, unlike the almost instant steamy heat that came out of his shower in his Los Angeles home.
Amber didn’t hear him come in, and didn’t turn around. Quietly setting Ferrin, who morphed to a snake, on the bedside table, Adrian shed his stained shirt, pulled his boots and socks from his feet, and peeled off his jeans before walking, in his underwear alone, into the bathroom.
Chapter Three
Amber jumped, pulse racing, when she found six foot six of golden muscle in the bathroom with her.
He looked down at her with a teasing smile, his eyes warm and enigmatic at the same time. The bare hollow of his throat enticed her, as did the black curls that spread across his strong pectorals. Amber wanted to touch the planes of his body, explore his warm, male skin with her fingers.
She hadn’t wanted him to stay, but the demon had terrified her, and Adrian exuded an aura of protectiveness. That protectiveness, as well as the fact that he was a stunning, hard man who’d saved her life, made Amber less reluctant to keep him near. She couldn’t stop herself reaching out, letting her fingers land lightly on his chest.
Adrian flinched, eyes closing, body stilling. He’d been laughing at her, teasing, but the teasing vanished, and now Adrian held himself tightly as though her fingertips resting on his chest brought him pain. Amber started to pull away, but his brows drew together, an expression of deeper hurt, and she let her hand remain.
She glanced around him at the mirror to view his strong and straight back, and gasped. His skin was covered with scars, wounds crisscrossed on top of wounds, some old, some new and raw. Some were shallow scratches on his skin and some were deep, where he’d been cut to the bone. There were so many, telling of countless fights.
Amber was no stranger to fighting. Being a witch, she’d had to learn to defend herself against beings of death magic, in not only magical but physical attacks. She could fight if she had to with a short, half-moon knife that fitted to her knuckles, and Sabina had taught Amber plenty of moves that might come in handy.
None of her preparation had readied Amber for the brutal attack of the demon tonight, a fight that Susan had lost and which Amber would have lost without Adrian. But her rare fights and even the struggle tonight were nothing to what must have caused the wreckage of this man’s back.
She traced a triangular pucker of skin on his shoulder where someone had driven a sharp object into him. “Good Goddess, what has happened to you?”
Adrian opened his eyes, which were filled with old pain. The darkness inside was like a chasm into time itself. “A warrior has to expect to be cut now and again.”
“Now and again?” she asked incredulously. “Some of this skin looks like it’s been through a meat shredder.”
He shrugged. “Swords, knives, arrows, bullets. No meat shredders.”
Amber also noticed that an abrasion he’d sustained from the demon tonight was already closing, the wound a pink line. “What are you? And don’t give me another lesson about ancient Egypt.”
His gaze became more enigmatic still. “Something forgotten in this world.”
“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, I can just ask your snake.”
He started to laugh. “I thought you were afraid of Ferrin.”
“I never said I’d stand close to him when I asked.”
Adrian continued to smile. He threaded his fingers through the short hair that curled on the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her, his tongue sweeping briefly into her mouth. She tasted the sharp bite of him, and then the kiss was finished, leaving her heartbeat racing.
He raised his head and rested his broad forearms on her shoulders, continuing to play with her hair. “Amber Silverthorne, I’m glad I found you tonight.”
She smiled a little. “I’m glad you found me too. Or I’d be dead.”
“Yes, you would be,” Adrian said without boasting. “I thank all the goddesses that I reached you in time.”
She touched his jaw. His whiskers were sand
paper rough, like a human’s. But then again, vampires shaved and acted as normal humans, as Amber had discovered the hard way when she was younger. A vampire could glam a person’s mind to accept them as a human. She’d been in love with the vamp called Julio for six months before Susan had removed the glam, and Amber had learned the awful and humiliating truth.
Susan wasn’t here anymore to get rid of glamour spells and protect her little sister. Amber had to recognize danger and remove it herself.
Amber lightly stroked Adrian’s jaw, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath his skin.
The pulse beating hard at his throat told her he was very much alive, and no vampire. But nor was he a werewolf or any other kind of shapeshifter. Amber had known Sabina since childhood, and Sabina had always exuded a predatory air, sometimes narrowing her golden eyes to watch people with the look of a wolf sizing up a rabbit. Sabina also carried the sense that she was part of a collective—her family, her pack—people who would fight at her side.
Adrian had nothing of the wolf about him. He had the predatory air but one that said he fought alone. Amber sensed his aloneness was not his choice but something he had learned to live with. The sheer loneliness she felt from him was overpowering.
Adrian’s hand firmed on the nape of her neck, as though he would stop her from falling. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You aren’t ready for what I am.”
Amber wasn’t quite sure why he was apologizing. She continued to look into his eyes, and the vast emptiness she saw there gradually lessened, then shut her out, until she was simply looking at a strong man’s dark eyes.
“I need to shower.” He slowly withdrew his fingers from her neck, then before she could stop him he slipped his briefs to his ankles, stepped out of them and walked casually to the shower stall.
No way could she not look. The scars didn’t lessen the beauty of his body, the strong back that led to tight hips and firm mound of backside. His left buttock held a tattoo of a pentacle, an upright five-pointed star surrounded by a circle.
From Jennifer Ashley, With Love: Three Paranormal Romances from Bestselling Series Page 45
