by Amy Corwin
“Out!” he said to her, moving close enough to make her back up a step. “Please.”
“After you.”
A monumentally calm expression smoothed over his face. “No, please, I insist. After you.” He stood between her and the vampires.
Any human who dealt with vampires was as bad as a vampire. Tainted. She knew that. He would betray her to his friends, his vampire friends, if she didn’t put a stop to this, now. She ought to kill him—she knew it. Her body vibrated with tension, seeking the release of action, but her heart hesitated. His kind eyes and the warmth surrounding him confused her, made her doubt her wisdom, borne from bitter experience.
“Now, please.” Kethan pushed her through the door while she dithered, distracted by her unfamiliar reaction.
Think of Kathy.
Opportunity missed, the door closed in her face.
Kethan placed himself between her and the door. “You’re not going to destroy them.”
“My friend won’t be safe, none of us are safe, until they’re dead. All of them.” If Kathy Sherman went back to the orphanage, everyone there would be in danger. Her heart thundered in her ears until she could hardly hear or think.
Besotted by Jason’s glamorous illusion, Kathy could be tempted by him to open the door to him, or to his entire clan. She wasn’t old enough to understand his true nature, the inherent treachery of vampires. Their refuge would be shattered in a blood-drenched tsunami of betrayal and destruction. Quicksilver had been the same age when she had made a similar mistake and learned the hard way.
Now, she’d do anything to keep Kathy’s innocence intact. The girl shouldn’t have to learn that the horror stories about vampires were actually true and much more terrifying than any writer had ever imagined. She was too young to experience duplicity and death.
Kethan pushed the whips into Quicksilver’s hand. “Put those away.” Baffled by her body’s obedience to his brief command, she complied. Then he lightly gripped her elbow and steered her down the hallway. “You’re perfectly safe, Miss Nothing.”
“No, I’m not. No one is.” She glanced at the closed door, half expecting to see the vampires boiling out in pursuit.
The door remained shut. The sight made her shiver with thoughts of what they might be doing, instead, where she couldn’t see them. If there was another exit….
“That’s the point of the negotiations and why it’s important to allow us to continue. To protect the innocent. No one believes vampires exist, and we intend to keep it that way.”
“These can make us safe.” Quicksilver patted the hollow of her back where she’d tucked the whips. “There’s no other way. Ignorance isn’t the answer.”
“And being locked up as a mad woman for insisting vampires exist, is?”
“I’m not crazy enough to talk about them. I just work on getting rid of them.”
He ran a hand through his thick hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, this isn’t the time or place to argue.”
“But you’re so good at it.” She stared at him obliquely through her lashes and gave him a half-smile.
“Go home and don’t come back. Don’t interrupt again.” His low voice sounded tired and distracted as they entered the lobby. “We’re doing the best we can to make sure everyone stays safe.”
“Okay, but when Sutton comes after me—and he will—I’m going to defend myself.”
“He won’t.”
“Yeah, right. And the sun won’t rise tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll see to it. All I need is a bit of trust.”
Trust me. Words spoken by every lying, deceiving bastard ever born on planet Earth. She shook her head. He couldn’t stop them, and he was a fool if he thought he could.
The lobby was mostly deserted with the exception of a single businessman in a gray suit leaning tiredly against the registration desk, waiting for a room key. He never even glanced up as they brushed past, heading for the outer door.
“Kethan,” Father Donatello called, hurrying after them.
Quicksilver pushed through the revolving door and almost exited, but noting the frown developing on Kethan’s face, she completed the revolution and returned to the lobby. Bad news on the negotiation front might be valuable to her.
“If she’s—” Father Donatello broke off when he noticed her.
Sensing her presence, Kethan turned slightly, including her in the privacy of their circle.
“If she—what?” she asked. “If I’m alive? They asked you to ‘neutralize’ me, didn’t they? So I won’t mess up your precious negotiations.”
Father Donatello’s thin face paled. “We’d never agree—”
Kethan cut him off. “What’s your name? Your real name, Miss Nothing?”
“Allison Bankes—that is—Quicksilver.” How had her old name slipped out? Allison Bankes, a girl long dead and forgotten when the memory of her foolish innocence grew too unbearable. A familiar, sharp twinge radiated from the base of her skull down her spine. She rubbed the nape of her neck and then glanced at him, pushing away the pain, both physical and emotional.
He smiled. Her heart raced, tingling with hot electricity. When he held out his large, broad hand, she took it impulsively. Her fingers felt ridiculously small and fragile enveloped in his.
“Kethan Hilliard.” He held her hand gently, covering it with the one still wrapped in a handkerchief. He stared deeply into her eyes a shade too long, weighing her, seeking her soul before glancing away. Her heart double-thumped in response. A second later, his warm gaze returned. He released her with apparent reluctance and gestured to the older man. “This is Father Joseph Donatello.”
“Hi.” She acknowledged the introduction, shifting weight from one foot to the other. She stared past the two men at the empty corridor, their curious stares making her feel awkward and out of place.
She almost hoped a vampire would appear, something she could deal with. Her feet shifted again in a restless movement that took her closer to Kethan and then back toward the door.
“I’ve got to go,” she said at last, realizing that the vampires had probably left. This delay gave them time to set up a trap for her, or for Jason to find Kathy. Either way, she needed to track them and prevent them from hurting anyone else.
When Kethan touched the back of her hand, she jumped. He gave her wrist a brief, reassuring stroke that sent warmth radiating up her arm. Her muscles involuntarily relaxed as if in anticipation of another caress before she caught herself. She stiffened.
“Wait.” He glanced around the lobby before transferring his gaze to the plate glass windows. “There’s a restaurant next door. Why don’t we get a cup of coffee?”
“What restaurant? The Awful-Waffle?” she asked, using the all too apt nickname used by the teenagers at the children’s home. Her gaze followed Kethan’s, but there was nothing to see through the glass panes except darkness.
Where would Sutton wait for her? Someplace like a narrow, dark alley where her movements would be restricted and he could hide in the shadows.
Oblivious to her anxiety, the two men chuckled over the restaurant’s moniker.
Kethan said, “The House of Waffles.” He made it sound like a gourmet eatery, complete with white-jacketed waiters and a fine wine cellar.
She shifted again, hr hands flashing to touch the handles of her whips and then back to wedge into her pockets, time sliding away. Delay or go? Which was safer? While they stood talking, four killers were merging with the darkness to wait…. Kethan had to know it. Was he deliberately delaying her to ensure the safety of the vampires?
Worse, was he ensuring that Sutton had the advantage when he attacked?
When she gazed into his eyes, she saw a glimmer of amused knowledge. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
“Whatever.” She agreed despite her anxiety. An icy shiver rippled through her. She recognized it. Vulnerability. She needed to get away and find a way to protect herself and Kathy. Yet she remained and sto
od there, looking up at Kethan.
What’s wrong with me? Who is this man?
He smiled, dimples crimping his cheeks. His brown eyes warmed as she stared into them. Feeling her mouth respond with an answering grin, she flushed before glancing away.
Just as quickly, she stepped back and studied the large windows, trying to see past the shimmering reflection of the lobby. The room was nearly empty of life except for the pale, disheveled clerk cleaning up odds-and-ends at the desk and a few weary travelers shuffling toward the elevator.
She shrugged off the good feeling that had settled around her like a warm, well-used jacket when Kethan smiled. Time to go and face the music. She took another step toward the door.
She could still protect Kathy. She just had to focus on the task at hand and not on the big man standing next to her.
Chapter Four
Kethan fell into step behind the slender woman, Quicksilver. After a glance at the rigid set of her shoulders, he refrained from commenting on her odd name. He didn’t want to antagonize her, and he was already concerned enough about her safety to want to keep her near while he considered their options. Sutton had backed off for now. However, the vampire’s restraint wouldn’t last long. Kethan had already recognized the unfortunate fact that Sutton had poor impulse control. It was, to a large degree, why he had so many difficulties as clan leader.
When they passed through the hotel’s revolving door, he maintained his distance and avoided the temptation of crowding into the same quarter section of space she occupied.
Give her room. Make her comfortable.
Despite his restraint, she flicked unhappy, mistrustful looks at him over her shoulder.
The night was misty and cool. Out of habit, he moved to the edge of the sidewalk to block the gusts of exhaust and danger from erratic traffic. She frowned and walked faster. He stayed beside her, slipping easily into his normal stride.
He scanned the street and sidewalk, senses alert to any signs that Sutton’s clan followed them.
A ghostlike ripple in the darkness ahead caught his attention. A vampire waited in the shadows. Not wanting Quicksilver to notice, Kethan suppressed any reaction.
They didn’t need any more violence tonight.
He nodded to Joe. The priest moved to guard her flank. Despite their silence, she stiffened and slipped one hand around her back to cradle the silvery handle of a whip. He tensed and sent a brief prayer upward.
Give me the strength to stop her without endangering an innocent bystander. His hand throbbed briefly where her whip had sliced his flesh. He could imagine what it might do if someone inadvertently got in the way when she went after a vampire.
He glanced again at Joe and shook his head.
Fortunately, the priest caught the subtle signals. He’d also noticed the subtle ripple. The undead tracked them, moving silently in the darkness between the brick buildings. When Quicksilver looked at Joe, he met her frown with a reassuring smile. Her gaze sharpened. She glanced past them, her body stiffening.
Kethan touched her briefly on the forearm to distract her. Her head whipped around. Thrumming with nervous energy, she eyed him, ready for a fight despite his efforts to ratchet down the tension. He gave her an easy grin and then nearly tripped on a broken section of sidewalk when an inexplicable and unwanted flicker of attraction surprised him.
All leggy slenderness, she looked more like one of the undergrads he used to teach at the local community college than an adult. Light blond hair fluttered around her shoulders in soft, silky streaks as she strode at a brisk pace, her heels clicking against the uneven walkway.
She moved impatiently, like a woman with a busy schedule and intolerant of delays. Difficult and fussy. Definitely not the type he was usually attracted to.
He tended toward the teasing sensuality of dark, voluptuous older women like the lusty centerfolds adorning the walls of the garage where he’d waited this morning for his car to be repaired. Again.
Perhaps that explained his uncomfortable itch. He was suffering from too frequent visits to a mechanic who had an unfortunate proclivity for calendars featuring exceptionally well-endowed women holding tools in suggestive ways.
Kethan glanced at Quicksilver again and swiftly looked away when another sizzling zing of excitement rippled through him. His mind blanked for a moment. He tripped over another crack in the sidewalk.
What the hell?
She studiously ignored him, although by the rigid set of her jaw, he had the distinct impression she was aware of his assessing glance. She simply chose to pretend he didn’t exist.
Maybe he ought to consider buying a new car that would require fewer visits to the mechanic so he could get his mind off the physical world.
As they approached the House of Waffles, Quicksilver did not slow her stride.
“Here we are.” He stepped in front of her and blocked the sidewalk.
Her scowl deepened. Before she could find an excuse to slip away, he leaned around her and pushed open the door. The action effectively forced her either to back up so she could edge around him or enter the restaurant.
Her lips thinned and compressed into a straight line, but she entered.
The restaurant was nearly empty. Kethan’s eyes flashed to the old fashioned, black-rimmed clock above the kitchen door. Quarter after eleven. The night was still young.
He sighed, regretting the evening’s unexpected events. Despite their apparent interest in the talks, vampires were not easy to bring to any negotiation. They were too paranoid and didn’t want to agree to a specific time and place for fear of a trap.
And he could certainly understand their position. Especially since he used to be one of them.
A spurt of irritation heated the back of his neck. Why hadn’t Sutton controlled that youngster, Jason? To let him loose so close to the hotel proved just how destabilized the clan was. That fact made their talks even more critical unless he wanted humans to figure out vampires really did exist and start a full-scale war against the undead.
Both sides would lose so many it was destined to be a tragedy for all involved.
Kethan automatically surveyed the restaurant as they paused just inside the door. Three thick-necked men sat on stools, hunched over the counter. Several more occupied the booths closest to the kitchen, leaving the drafty tables near the doorway unoccupied.
Sipping steaming coffee from thick white mugs held between their hands, the men shot casual glances at the trio hesitating near the entrance. Truckers taking on caffeine before easing back out onto the nighttime highway. Their eyes stared out from identical dark circles of exhaustion.
It didn’t take long before they focused on Quicksilver. Men couldn’t help staring at her. She drew their gazes and the males responded like wolves unable to resist howling at the moon. He felt a little wolfish, himself, trying not to notice the way her jeans hugged her long legs.
Hopefully, the caffeine wouldn’t wind anyone up enough to do something stupid. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would let stupidity slide, and he didn’t feel like breaking any knuckles on their drooping jaws.
Waiting for her to select a table, Kethan stepped forward to hide her from the view of the men at the counter. Having won the small victory of convincing her to join them, he was careful not to stare too long, stand too near, or touch her again, but his palm burned to rest on the small of her back.
Just thinking about it made his blood surge. His mind stuttered and he stepped forward hastily to catch up with her.
“Over there?” Joe moved toward a clean booth relatively distant from the other patrons.
“Fine.” Again, Kethan used the bulk of his body to maneuver Quicksilver away from the door and toward the virulently yellow booth.
At least the laminate tabletop was white—a relief to the eyes although all the sulfur yellow and white created the bizarre feeling of sitting in a carton of fried eggs. The warm, damp air smelled of bacon and sweet donuts, and suddenly he grew aware
of a profound, gnawing hunger.
He took a deep breath, catching the fragrant scent of coffee. The smell never failed to give him the sense of coming home to a warm kitchen. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction.
“Father Donatello!” A dark-haired waitress came out of the kitchen. She was balancing three large platters of fried chicken along the length of her arm. “You’re out late.”
Quicksilver stopped in the middle of sliding into the booth. She glanced at Joe who had already seated himself on the opposite bench. “I don’t—”
“Have a seat.” Kethan smiled to put her at ease.
The waitress efficiently slid the plates in front of the men sitting at the counter before flinging up the drawbridge section of the counter and snagging a few menus.
Kethan eased into the booth next to Quicksilver, not touching her, but preventing her from escaping. She gave him a sharp glance before sitting down and focusing on Joe.
“Good evening, Denise. How are you?” Joe asked.
“Busy as usual.”
“Too busy for church?”
Blushing, she fussed over handing out the menus before replying, “Schedules. They’re working me to death.”
“So I see.” Joe laughed. “I’ll pray they allow you a few hours off sometime this month to attend mass.”
“Oh sure, Father. Sure.” The waitress pulled out a pen and order pad. She looked from Joe to Kethan. “And you, Father Hilliard?”
Kethan shook his head. The bench jerked as Quicksilver straightened. Again, he felt her deliberately not glancing at him although he could feel her muscles flexing as she shifted as if too aware of their physical proximity. Her movements made his own body tighten. The lean, warm length of her thigh rested inches from his own.
“Not Father. Not anymore. Just Kethan, now,” he said.
Denise focused on him with a grin as she turned her shoulder on the guilt-inducing Father Joseph Donatello. She eyed Kethan with the lingering gaze that he had spent so many years avoiding from overly amorous women maneuvering to wrest him from the grip of his vows.
