Forty minutes after Jake had kissed the back of her neck and left her shivering in front of the fridge, he came back. He pulled the blue plastic chair out from under the table and dropped into it.
He looked dreadful.
Sabrina took out her earbuds and turned off the music. “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.
He looked at her. His eyes were shining, brilliant with unshed tears and her heart squeezed and her breath evaporated in a rush. “God, Jake, what?”
“You didn’t hear any of it, did you?” Even his voice was shaken.
She lifted the earbuds. “They’re sound-cancelling. Plus Mozart at top volume.” She had bought them the week after Jake and Nyanther had gotten together. Sleep came only slightly more easily with them in, though.
Jake was looking at her, his glittering eyes narrowed. “Damage control…” he whispered.
“What?”
He put his hand on the table, flat, the fingers together. Sabrina looked at it. She wasn’t sure if he was asking for silence, or about to make an announcement. Except he didn’t speak. Not for a long time.
Then he lifted his other hand and rubbed the heel of it over each eye in turn, wiping away the excess moisture. “Have you ever seen labor mediators work?”
“A few times. Not directly, though.”
“If you could describe what they do in one word, what would the word be?”
She thought back to the few monotonous hours when she had been asked to sit in as a management observer for meditation sessions. “They listen,” she said.
Jake nodded. “Yes.”
Sabrina lowered the screen on her laptop, closing it. “What damage are you trying to control?”
“The harm done by time itself.” Jake got to his feet, then surprised her by picking up the chair and folding it. He slid it up against the wall behind her and held out his hand. “Come here.”
She looked at his hand. “What’s going on?”
“I’m trying to explain. Come here.”
She took his hand. It was warm and strong and his touch sent little fizzing sensations along her hand. He helped her to her feet, then drew her around the table and for the two steps to reach the fridge. Then he turned her so her back was against it.
It was a reminder of the last time she had stood here and her heartbeat picked up and hurried on.
Her breath jammed up in her throat as Jake leaned down, bringing his mouth to hers.
For weeks she had recalled the few kisses they had shared, often when she caught a glimpse of Nyanther and Jake together...or heard them. This kiss was powered by those memories and the fantasies they had inspired and it was heavenly. Jake was leaning against her, his hard body pressed up against hers and she welcomed the pressure.
All the worn, well-used images she had concocted of him and Nyanther together tumbled through her mind in a blur so fast she didn’t really see them. Their effect was electrifying.
Had she really wanted Jake this much all along and just buried it deep? She moaned into his mouth as she wished she could tear his clothes away and fuck him with a crazed intensity. It was making her shake.
Jake groaned and the deep sound, from far inside his chest, made her pulse almost stop in its tracks.
He lifted his mouth from hers and touched his head to hers, lightly, then straightened so he could look at her. His eyes were very blue in this light and he was watching her carefully. Measuring her reaction.
“What has happened?” she asked again. Only something terrible could have happened for Jake to be kissing her now, like this.
“I need your help with Nyanther,” he said. His voice was still strained.
“What do you need?” she asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”
He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I need you to answer a question.”
Sabrina frowned. “What?”
“I need to know something.” He lifted her chin so she was looking at him squarely. “I need to know what you really want.”
* * * * *
Nyanther waited until the house behind him grew completely silent and the streets around him hushed. They would never be completely silent. At this time of the night, though, they dropped to a low murmur.
By then, he was starting to feel the chill in the distant, icy-skinned way that vampires did. It meant he’d been too long in a cold he didn’t notice and his extremities, which were still human flesh, were in danger. Even vampires had a metabolism of sorts and severe cold could hamper it.
He went up to the third floor and used the key to get into the apartment, instead of going to the fourth and trailing through the top floor to the iron stairs and back down again. Nick and Damian would still be there. They were in no mood for company and neither was he.
He wasn’t certain what would greet him when he stepped into the bedroom. An empty bed, most likely, with Jake’s clothes and the possessions that had sprouted like mushrooms all cleared out.
Or perhaps Jake had decided to stay anyway and would make a formal exit at a more civilized hour.
It was also possible Jake would want to fight the inevitable. He knew how to battle for what he wanted, especially if it was something no one else wanted for him. He had been doing it his entire life. He might have stayed up, waiting for Nyanther to return, so he could launch a counter-offensive.
What greeted him was so far beyond any of those expectations, it brought him to a halt a pace inside the door, his hand still on the handle.
Jake was lying on the covers, still dressed, except he’d gotten rid of his shoes. Nyanther wondered if he was aware of how quickly he reverted to barefoot whenever he could. He was sitting with his back against the headboard.
Sabrina was lying against him. She looked like she was asleep, with Jake’s arms around her. She was also dressed, in the gleaming, silky tight-cut pants she favored for around the house.
And she was barefoot, too.
She lifted her head, blinking, as Nyanther came to a halt.
“Shut the door,” Jake told him softly.
“You moved on fast,” Nyanther observed.
Jake looked down at Sabrina. “Told you he would say that first.”
“You did,” she said in agreement. She eased herself away from Jake and got to her feet. “You can start, as he’s already aiming at you.” She moved around Nyanther, slid the door handle out from under his fingers and closed the door.
He heard the lock click and looked at her as she moved over to the bench at the end of the bed and sat on it.
He had been confused many times in his life, more so in the last thirty years than all the centuries he’d been alive before. This was a different state. A novel one. He couldn’t guess what the two of them were doing. Humans were usually so transparent he could anticipate their every move—even the more complicated people like Jake and Sabrina.
Except now he had no idea what to expect.
The hairs on the back of his neck tried to stand up in a way he’d not experienced in a very, very long time.
The threat of the unknown.
His heart stirred and beat. Just once. It was a warning.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Funny, we’ve both asked each other that in the last few hours,” Jake said. He hadn’t moved from the bed. “I remember asking you earlier tonight, too. There’s a lot of stuff happening none of us seem to be able to get a grip on. We’ve decided to change that.”
Nyanther smiled, despite his lack of amusement. “You have, have you?”
“First up,” Sabrina said. “There’s one rule.”
“A rule?”
“Just one,” she assured him. “You don’t go out that door.”
He laughed. “Stop me.”
“Neither of us can stop you. The lock can’t stop you,” Jake said. “We’re not stupid, Ny. The lock is a symbol. And we’re asking you to agree to this. You don’t leave, no matter what happens or how much you want to go…and you will.”
&
nbsp; Nyanther’s heart squeezed again. “I already want to leave,” he assured him.
“We’re both asking you to stay.”
“Why should I? You’ve promised nothing pleasant.”
“Stay because you love Jake,” Sabrina said softly. “Agree to this, as the last thing you will do for him.”
Nyanther dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to look at either of them. “You told her….”
“I told Sabrina everything,” Jake said gently. “She needed to know.”
“Why? It was between you and me.”
“There’s something I’ve learned lately, Ny,” Sabrina said, her voice still gentle. “Secrets can’t be secrets in this world we’re living in. If you take a deep breath and let go, you’ll find it comforting everyone knows the score.”
“Don’t call me that,” he ground out.
“Ny? Very well.” She said it easily, with no offense. “First, we need you to agree to this one rule.”
Nyanther shook his head. “Why?”
“Because I’m asking you to,” Jake said.
He turned to look at the flimsy door with its joke for a lock. “And if I don’t agree?”
They both stayed silent.
He looked back at them.
“It’s your choice,” Sabrina said.
“That’s it? No dire warnings about how I’ll never know what I’m going to miss out on if I don’t stay?”
Silence, again.
“Agreed,” Nyanther growled. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Tell me why you think you don’t belong in this world,” Jake said.
Nyanther shook his head. “Next question.”
“That’s the only one there is,” Sabrina said. “That’s the question we want you to answer…as truthfully and fully as you can.”
“I’ve already explained myself. As much as I intend to.” In the back of his brain, Nyanther wondered why he was getting so angry. Was it because of the sensation that these two had conspired against him, somehow? Jake was supposed to be his…well, he had been until a few hours ago—and that thought made his chest ache, so he shoved it away, too.
The fact is, they were ganging up on him. Yes, that was it.
“Tell me why you think you don’t belong here,” Jake repeated. His tone was level, devoid of emphasis. He even brought one knee up to rest his arm on, a casual pose that didn’t look studied at all.
“I told you already.”
“I didn’t hear it. Not from you,” Sabrina said. “I would like to hear it now.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, with the same controlled evenness of tone Jake had used. “I’m as much a part of this as Jake. The only reason Jake was in your bed and not me was because you thought you could keep it casual with him. You admitted you were wrong. So I would very much like to know why I am such a danger to you. Why do you think you don’t belong here, Nyanther?”
He blew out his breath and gave up on trying to control his heart. “I’m going to have to feed soon,” he warned.
“You can feed from me when you need to,” Jake said flatly. “You agreed you’re not leaving this room.”
“Why do you think you don’t belong, Nyanther?” Sabrina added.
Nyanther growled and turned on his heel, looking for somewhere to go. The door was right there. All he had to do was twist the handle, tear the lock aside and open it.
He couldn’t do it. He had agreed to this insanity, although why they were doing it was still far beyond his comprehension.
“Nyanther,” Jake said. “Answer the question.”
“I’ve already answered it!” He turned back again. There was nowhere to go. He was stuck here in this tiny space at the foot of the bed, looking at the two of them.
He realized this was their intention. They were going to batter him with their questions until he answered. Just the one question, in the end.
“You want to know why?” he asked.
“Yes.” They said it together.
“Because of idiots like you who drive me crazy with their interventions and their social justice and their political correctness and the complicated, moronic pointlessness of it all! Humans haven’t improved in two thousand years. They’ve not gone backward. They’ve evolved into something I don’t even recognize.” He halted, almost breathless and glared at them. Neither of them was reacting to his outrageous claims.
“Why?” Sabrina asked.
Nyanther swore. “This. This moment right here and right now. This is why. Because humans have lost sight of the basic equation. They fill their days with feelings and emotions and melodrama and meanings. Oh, what does it all meeeeeaaaaan?” He twisted the cry, making it sound pathetic. “Where did just living go to? When did being happy to have food to eat and shelter from the rain and cold become passé?”
His chest was heaving.
Still the pair of them sat serenely, watching him.
“Why?” Jake asked.
Nyanther screamed. It came from somewhere inside him, emerging as a howl of frustration, building up from his toes and erupting from his throat, straining the tendons and making his eyes ache.
Then he turned and rammed his fist into the wall.
The wallpaper tore and the drywall shattered, giving way so that his fist slammed into the drywall in the next room. That piece held. Just.
Breathless, he stared at the big hole his wrist was buried in. The flour-fine drywall dust settled on his shirt sleeve and wrist, making his skin look sickly gray.
Upstairs, he heard Damian stir. “What on earth?” he whispered.
“Leave them be,” Nick said. “They’re sorting things out.”
“Hell’s hounds…” Damian murmured, then was silent.
So there was to be no outside rescue, either.
Nyanther yanked his hand out of the hole, scattering bone-white pieces of drywall everywhere.
Jake and Sabrina had not moved.
He could almost hear the question in their minds.
“I’m tired,” he told them. “Tired of pretending. Tired of playing catch up.”
“Why?” Sabrina asked, very softly.
He sighed and looked down at the floor. At the boots on his feet. “Look at these,” he said, lifting his foot up on one side so the treads on the soles showed. “When I was a child, shoes were made from hides we cured ourselves, from meat we’d hunted ourselves. When they wore out, they were repaired, using more hide. Now I wear boots like this. The soles aren’t even rubber, anymore. They’re chemical compounds, invented by some technician sitting over beakers and spectrometers. The leather isn’t leather. There are insoles and insulation, padding to protect my feet. The processes, the development…the history behind every single part that goes into making them are something I by-passed. I didn’t get to find out except in hindsight. Thousands of people from around the world were involved in the making of these boots and the box they came in and the ship that carried them here. I don’t know a single one of those people.” He looked up at the pair sitting on the bed. “My mother made my first pair of boots.”
He looked away. His mother…how long since he had thought of her? She had died when he was still young, just turned adult in the eyes of the tribe. He barely remembered her. She had been roughly affectionate…it might have been love. She had never told him she loved him. It wasn’t a word or a concept that had existed then. Well, it might have elsewhere in the known world, but not in his tribe. Not for him.
The hot rush of feeling fountained up through his chest, grabbing his throat and burning his eyes.
“Why, Nyanther?” Jake pressed.
He shook his head. He didn’t dare speak.
“Why don’t you belong here?” Sabrina added.
He opened his mouth to reply. The words that came out shocked him. “Because they’re all gone.”
He had always known that. Of course he had. The history books had told him the last of the Pict tribes had been wi
ped out by the Scots clans. Anyone left after that would have been absorbed into the clan system.
The Selgovae were all gone, an extinct race, except for him. That was Damian’s fate, as well. He was the last of his kind, just as Nick could be said to be the last of his pure-bred Norman race, too. They were all of them lingering after-effects of history marching on around them.
For the first time he really heard himself say it. They were all gone. His mother, his sisters, his father, his uncles who he had hunted with. His brother, who had died even before his mother had. The vampire warriors who had initiated him into the blood…even they had not lasted through the ages.
They had all gone, leaving him stranded here in this time. Alone.
Sabrina had recognized his essential loneliness before he had. She had spoken of it on the stoop.
“There’s just me,” he breathed, absorbing the truth of it.
The pressure in his chest dissolved. He could breathe again. He looked up at Jake and Sabrina.
They were watching him, their calmness untouched.
“Why, right?” he said.
Sabrina nodded.
He sighed and hung his head. He had nothing more to give.
Chapter Eighteen
They were right and he was wrong.
The next four hours were pure torture. He paced. He shouted. He refused to speak. Three more holes appeared in the plaster.
Because they were human, Jake and Sabrina were forced to leave the room to eat, drink or use the bathroom. Only one would go and the other remained to keep asking the question and the word Nyanther grew to hate.
Why?
He tried. Each time they repeated it, he dug in again, searching for the elusive answer they were waiting for. Nothing satisfied them. He tore the roots of his soul out and offered it to them and they just repeated their question.
It was impossible for him to feel tired, of course, but as the sun rose, he could feel an aching in his bones that made his pacing slow and his energy to flag. Even sipping from Jake to offset the need to feed had not helped for long.
He rested his back against the wall, next to the bureau. Then he slid down, until he was sitting, his knees up in front of him.
Sabrina's Clan Page 18
