by Amy Corwin
A swirl of wind picked up a rumpled newspaper and flung it at his head. He ducked, holding up a crooked arm. When he dropped it, Quicksilver was standing in the middle of the empty street, a whip in each hand, the silver falls gleaming against the black pavement.
“What are you doing?” he called as he glanced around, his muscles tight and the skin between his shoulder blades tingling.
They weren’t alone.
“Quiet!” She tilted her head, listening.
A black figure, like the shadow of a man, flowed toward her with the smooth grace of a water moccasin gliding through the water, deadly and sure.
“Don’t—” Who was he warning? Quicksilver or the vampire?
Neither paid attention.
She cracked one whip in the air, a warning that brought the dark figure to a fault, not realizing he now presented a target for her weapon. The whip flicked out like lightning toward the abnormally still form.
Kethan blinked.
Quicksilver stood alone, the whips sagging in her hands.
She must have hit him, killed him, but when Kethan glanced around, there was no sign of ash. Nothing. Just a stretch of oily, black pavement that smelled of hot tar and gasoline fumes and car lights bearing down on them.
“Quicksilver! Get out of the road!”
She sprinted back to the sidewalk, a puzzled look on her face. “What just happened? I got him—I know I did.”
“I…don’t know.” Kethan studied the shadows for movement and the faces of a few pedestrians who hunched over as if protecting their necks and avoided eye contact as they hurried home. “Who was it? Sutton?”
The lithe form hadn’t looked like Sutton’s short, muscular frame, or even Jason’s more slender one. It looked like…a stranger.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He was…unclear. I don’t understand it.” Her hands shook as she coiled the whips and affixed them to her belt. “He had to be one of Sutton’s, doing the master’s bidding.”
“We don’t want a war.”
“It may be a little late for that.”
“It’s never too late for peace.”
“Nice sentiment. Idealistic and sweet, but not very realistic.”
Palms up, he gestured surrender. This was not the time to argue philosophy. Whether she killed the vampire or not, tensions were escalating and they needed to let things go for now.
He picked up the second helmet and settled it over his head as he slung a leg over the rear seat of the cycle.
After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed her own helmet, a full model in opalescent silver with a dark face plate that completely covered her features. In silence, she climbed on in front of him.
His additional weight destabilized her for a moment when she kicked off, but she quickly compensated and with a bone-rattling roar, the cycle sped out into the street. At the next intersection she made a wide circle, and they roared back the way they’d come.
She slowed down when they reached the Orchard Hotel. Going no more than twenty miles per hour, she drove past the hotel, her head moving from side to side as if searching for something, or someone.
Of course. The missing girl, Kathy. He prayed the girl had left this dangerous area and found her way home. If anything happened to her, tensions would escalate, and he would fail.
He refused to fail. Kethan settled back, resting his hands lightly on her waist. Speech was impossible with their helmets blocking their ears and the wind whistling past them. The night air whipped through his thin wool jacket as if he had nothing on but his plain, white, cotton shirt.
Goosebumps prickled over his arms and down his back. Quicksilver seemed oblivious. She leaned forward as if welcoming the embrace of the icy wind.
Several times they backtracked, circling blocks when a movement caught her attention. It took them nearly an hour to get to their next destination less than two miles away. He straightened in recognition.
The Convent of the Weeping Madonna, or rather the children’s home since its conversion a few years ago.
The old, sprawling building hugged a small hill at the outskirts of town, watching over the streets below like a guardian angel. A few windows twinkled with golden light, welcoming the weary traveler and easing some of the tension in Kethan’s body.
The convent had been turned into a home for orphaned children by Theresa Blackstone after a tragedy killed most of the nuns living there. She’d been a novice at the time and never took her final vows. However, instead of running away to recover from the horrors she’d experienced, she’d found the resources to convince the church to convert the facility into a haven for those who most needed it: children who had lost their parents through similar, terrifying experiences.
The lights seemed vulnerable in the thick darkness, as exposed and defenseless as the children seeking refuge within its stone walls.
Quicksilver parked the bike near the main door, under the gaze of a pair of stone saints guarding the entrance. Their sad faces, streaked by years of rain, looked uncertain in the poor light, as if the world around them had changed beyond recognition.
After easing off her helmet, Quicksilver shook out a cloud of pale hair. It flew around her head with an electric life of its own, moving with every soft breeze. The strands were so fine they never really settled over her shoulders but floated in a swirling mass as she dismounted and moved toward the door.
Again, he felt the force of desire pull at him. He had a sudden vision of tangling his fingers in that soft hair, running his thumb over that plump lower lip. He wanted to taste her mouth, somehow knowing it would taste of winter apples and plums, like a rich, heady wine.
As if aware of his scrutiny, she glanced at him, pushing hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. “I didn’t see any sign of Kathy. Did you?”
“The girl you’re looking for?” He shook his head.
She puffed an irritated breath through her lips. That small action made him crazy with an itch he’d all but forgotten after years of repression, trying to hold fast to his vows. He ached to fold her in his arms and feel her warmth against him. It had been so long….
“Who else would I be looking for?”
“More vampires to kill?” The sarcasm in his voice seemed to please her.
The flicker of a smile glowed over her face, lighting up her eyes before she snorted and looked away. Without another word, she edged around him. Using her helmet like a giant knocker, she pounded three times on the ornate door.
After a few minutes, Theresa Blackstone yanked it open. Wrapped in a floor-length fuzzy robe of deep blue, she frowned at them. “What do you…. Oh, Quicksilver. You’re back.”
With her face flushed with sleep, Theresa looked like a teenager dragging herself out of bed at noon. It was difficult to believe she managed a large orphanage and spent her nights in a small cell by the front door, guarding her charges like a living version of the stone angels outside.
She caught Kethan’s gaze. “Father Hilliard? What are you doing here?”
“Kethan, now. Just plain Kethan Hilliard.”
A flicker of disappointment darkened her eyes, but she didn’t question the correction.
His lips twisted in self-deprecating amusement. An irritating edge of guilt, or shame, he could never decide which, slipped under his skin when he had to admit he was no longer a Jesuit.
He hated that feeling of letting others down, of somehow being a failure. A quitter.
“Why did you bring Mr. Hilliard here?” Theresa asked.
“Him?” Quicksilver gestured toward him, knocking him in the stomach with her helmet. The underlying teasing warmth in her voice startled him. He glanced at her in surprise as she continued, “He seems to think I’m afraid of the dark, or something. Like he needs to protect me.”
Theresa laughed and waved them through the doorway. “Poor idiot. Well, what can you expect from mortal man?”
“Common sense would be nice,” Quicksilver replied in a dry voice.
“Nearly four,” Kethan answered.
Theresa gave them both a sharp glance. “Four! That late? What happened? Did you find Kathy?”
“I caught up with her.” Body tense, Quicksilver gripped Theresa’s wrist. “Two vampires lured her into an alley near the Orchard Hotel. I told her to go home. I wanted to make sure she did.”
“Wait here. Maybe she snuck past me after I fell asleep. Let me check.” Theresa hurried away, climbing a massive, heavily carved oak stairway. She disappeared down a shadowy hallway.
Suddenly aware of his own exhaustion and the late hour, Kethan strolled over to one of the benches lining the entryway. He’d arisen before dawn to prepare for the negotiations, unable to sleep any longer. It had taken them weeks to get Martyn Sutton to consent to a meeting. Even then, Sutton only agreed if they used a public place, like the Orchard Conference Center where there were plenty of avenues in and out. It was neutral territory for all parties.
He glanced at Quicksilver, trying not to hold her responsible. Months of planning, gone. A slow burning anger briefly flared in his chest.
She was only trying to protect Kathy Sherman. She didn’t know what she was interrupting. He swallowed his frustration and rolled his shoulders, easing the tightness.
At the sound of his shoes scraping the floor, Quicksilver turned her head and met his gaze. He nodded and sat, staring down at the smooth, dark wooden floor, aware of a heavy sense of exhaustion.
Cross-purposes. If only….
He shook his head and rubbed his face. Unfortunately, opposites did seem to attract, and he was more than aware of the potent attraction between them, although it was hard to say what Quicksilver felt, or thought.
When he looked up, he found her still staring at him.
“How long does it take to figure out if someone is in her bed or not?” She strode back and forth with rapid, jerking turns, swinging her helmet in her hand.
“It takes as long as it takes.” He stood up with a sigh. His knees cracked.
Her nervous tension made him feel even older and more tired. He doubted he was more than five years her senior. He’d lived thirty-two years as a human, but he felt like an ancient, doddering old fool trying to recapture his youth on the back of a motorcycle with his hands wrapped around the waist of a girl much too young for him.
But he had to admit, Quicksilver was a difficult woman to resist. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, but an exhilarating air of tempting naughtiness, like a forbidden, wanton Lolita, clung to her. He couldn’t escape the desire to step closer and feel the sizzle in his blood.
Her eyes glowed silver in the harsh light of the hallway as she caught him watching her. Despite the shadows blurring her features, she appeared amused, as if she knew his thoughts and found them entertaining.
“You look uncomfortable,” she said. “Maybe you should just go home.”
“After Miss Blackstone comes back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell her you said goodbye.”
“I can wait.”
Her smiled turned into a laugh. “You’re sure a glutton for punishment. You don’t have a hair shirt on under there, do you?” She flicked the collar of his shirt with her finger.
“No.” He caught her wrist and held her gaze. Slowly, he lowered her hand and released it. “I’m not one for self-flagellation. Never have been.”
Cheeks flushed, she stepped away, thumping her helmet against her thigh. She stared at the door behind him. “Then stop punishing yourself. Get out of here.”
“I’ll wait.” He smiled. “I enjoy your company.”
She shrugged. “It’s your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter Seven
Quicksilver looked into Kethan’s brilliant blue eyes, so rich in color they appeared neon. The heat of attraction rose within her. He was one of those irresistible Irishmen with black hair and blue eyes, complete with a glib tongue and gift for blarney, the kind of man who could make a woman do, or believe, anything he wished. No wonder he was a negotiator.
What a waste.
Talking was useless. You couldn’t trust people to keep their word, much less vampires who’d had centuries to perfect the art of deceit. The entire premise of negotiation made her teeth ache. You had to be crazy to think bargaining could result in anything except a compromise no one wanted.
If one person won, the other lost. If both gave in, both lost. What other outcomes were possible?
Was he so naïve he couldn’t see the truth?
She lowered her head, letting her hair fall over her face to hide her expression as she studied him through the veil of her hair.
Somehow aware of her interest, he flashed a smile. She blinked as heat rushed through her, raising a flutter in her stomach.
His eyes drew her in. Their warmth made her feel…treasured.
Then she stiffened with wariness. She’d seen desire in many men’s eyes. There was something about a woman with a whip that brought out an almost supernatural level of lust in the male of the species. The desire to submit to a dangerous woman or possess one. Dominance, submission, the age-old dance of the sexes.
She strode back across the wooden floor, her boot heels tapping sharply over the creaking planks as she swung the heavy weight of her helmet in her hand. It thumped against her thigh, awkward as a bowling ball hanging from her fingers. If he knew about the savage anger warping her, he wouldn’t look at her that way. He’d hate her. Tension tightened the skin across her forehead until her blood throbbed in her ears.
Why did he keep staring at her with narrowed eyes? Weighing and judging her, finding all her flaws. It wasn’t her fault Jason and Tyler had gone after Kathy. She hadn’t meant to interrupt his precious meeting, but she had, and the anger had gotten the better of her.
The back of her neck itched from his stare. Rubbing it, she studied the stairs.
Where is Theresa? Reading Kathy a bedtime story?
When she glanced at Kethan, he was leaning back, his face was calm, relaxed. She turned away abruptly, feeling that he’d come to some decision about her and found her lacking.
What did he want? An apology? She let her helmet whack even harder against her thigh, as if creating a bruise would make him go away or suddenly understand her.
Finally, she heard Theresa’s light step on the creaking stairs. Quicksilver turned in relief to watch her slow descent.
“She’s not in her room or any of her friends’ rooms.” A frown pinched the skin between Theresa’s dark brows. “No one’s seen her since lights out.”
Not there? God in heaven, hadn’t Kathy made it home? Had Jason found her on the road….
“Damn!” Quicksilver swore, rounding on Kethan. “It’s Jason! I know it!”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Kethan’s reasonable tone only exacerbated her edginess.
“I’m not jumping to conclusions. Jason wanted to feed on her. He’s established dominance. She was gazing into his eyes when I interrupted them. He can control her!”
I was too late. Again. Inside she cringed, the sensation of being trapped tightening around her. Time—there has to be time to save her and redeem both of us. If redemption was even possible anymore….
“He agreed to leave her alone,” Kethan said.
“Yeah, right. And I’m so sure we can trust him.” She paced in the narrow space of the hallway, trying to think. Why can’t I think? Her mind felt sluggish, uncooperative. How could she find them? Think!
“I’ll find her. You wait here.”
“You wait here, Mr. Negotiator! You don’t even have transportation. You wanted to go with me, remember? So you’re stuck here.”
“No. I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t. I can only take one other person on my bike. If I find Kathy, I won’t have room for you.”
“Why don
’t you come with me, Kethan?” Theresa interrupted, her face serene despite the tension crisping the edges of her words.
“I appreciate the offer, but Quicksilver can’t go alone. It’s not safe.” He held up a hand when both women turned to face him. “Trust me. It would be a mistake for you to go alone.”
Damn you! She knew he was right after confronting that dark figure in the street, but she couldn’t give up and hide. She had to do something to bring Kathy back safe. A sense of urgency filled her. Part of her realized that there was more to it than she was willing to acknowledge. Saving Kathy, bringing her back safe and unharmed felt like she’d be bringing herself back from what she’d suffered, as if she could only move forward and heal if she rescued this girl who was so much like she’d been at one time.
“Not safe for her?” Theresa’s dark eyes flickered over Quicksilver’s face, searching for an explanation, making sure she didn’t mean that Kathy wasn’t safe because Quicksilver was paranoid or out of control.
A flush rise burned her cheekbones. She wasn’t the one Kathy needed to fear. Quicksilver would never hurt her or lose control to the point where she’d kill innocent children.
How could she even think such a thing?
Especially since Quicksilver suspected Theresa was no stranger to violence. She’d lived through her own horrors when the convent had been all but destroyed. She knew vampires existed and rumors said Theresa was pretty handy at killing them. If she feared Quicksilver’s judgment, well, Kethan looked as if he could handle anything. Just looking at his massive body was intimidating. His wide shoulders and thick arms looked as if he could rip an oak tree up by the roots if the urge struck him.
But negotiators relied on words, not strength. Self-control.
“I—” Theresa touched her arm.
“It’ll take too long to explain the situation,” Quicksilver interrupted. “I can do this. I can bring her back.”
“No—wait,” Theresa said. “You two take my car. I can take your motorcycle.”
“No way.”
“Why don’t you wait here, Theresa? In case she returns,” Kethan suggested. “Quicksilver and I will take your car, if you don’t mind.”
