Chapter Eight #2
Her eyes widen past fear into terror. “No.”
She closes the door. I’ve got no choice but to leave her. If I try to force the issue, we’re both going to get hurt.
Glad that I’d studied the house’s architectural plans, I take off running toward another bend in the hall. The first door past that bend leads to a set of stairs going down. These stairs should take me to an exit door. I hope.
Thank the Virgin, they do. I keep moving fast, chased by unseen pursuers and a healthy helping of guilt, the driveway’s crushed rock surface making it impossible to stay silent. If my presence has stirred up trouble in the house, they’re keeping it contained. I can only hope Rob got out.
And I wish the young woman had come with me.
Our rendezvous place is a good three hundred meters from the house. A pair of red taillights tell me I’m getting close. Good. Sonny has the engine running. I push the pace, covering the ground like a shadow.
Whoever’s chasing me gets closer, their pounding steps quicker than the beat of my heart. There’s a silhouette in the passenger seat. Rob. When I’m close, I hold one hand high, palm toward them. It’s a signal none of us have used in decades, and it means danger.
The car starts to roll and the rear door swings open. I catch, grab, and leap even as Sonny hits the accelerator.
“Go,” I gasp, slamming the door shut behind me. We’re lucky there’s no traffic on this stretch of road, and a glance over my shoulder shows me my pursuers are fading in the distance. They must be allowing us to leave, as they certainly possess the speed to catch us.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sonny yells at top volume, even as he makes a quick lane change to pass a slower-moving vehicle. “What the actual fuck just happened?”
Rob gives him a calm smile. Gritting my teeth, I work on my safety belt, keeping my hands busy so I don’t smack Rob for that smug expression.
“I learned that Prince does have the diamond,” Rob says, “and with luck, John identified its location.”
“Why the panic text, then?” Sonny’s no longer yelling and the car has slowed.
“I don’t know.” Rob’s voice takes on a hint of curiosity. “John?”
“What panicked text?”
He holds up his phone. “Will says your camera went offline.”
I pat my chest where the small camera had been pinned and wince.. “I got hit.” Words hurt so I keep it short.
“Hit?”
Sonny swears under his breath. Using as few words as possible, I describe what happened after I left him downstairs. “And no, I did not find the diamond.”
Sonny speeds up as we enter the highway, muttering under his breath.
“What?” Rob asks him.
“Fucking waste of time.” The way Sonny snaps each word makes his anger clear.
Rob heaves a sigh. “Not entirely. We know that his security is lax, and he’s got at least one ally who can make themselves invisible.”
“Not too many creatures can do that,” Sonny agrees.
“Obviously,” I say, or more accurately, gasp.
“We knew he was powerful, and we guessed he’d have powerful friends.
” Rob sounds amused rather than worried.
I clench my fists, ready to take out some of my excess emotion on him.
Rob’s acting like this is no big deal, but Sonny’s not wrong.
We learned very little and now Neil Lundgren and Morgan Patterson are marked men in Elian Prince’s world.
If there’s any consolation, it’s learning Prince is dealing in young people, and while we couldn’t help them tonight, we will.
I will.
“We’re immortal, Sonny Miller,” Rob continues, “and if Hollywood is high school with money, then our exclusive club is even more so. Elian Prince likely already knew who we were, and I’d wager we’re not the first to come sniffing around that diamond.”
“And John getting busted is okay, too?”
“There was always a risk.” There’s a finality to Rob’s tone that shuts off any further dispute.
“What about the girl?” My voice sounds ragged.
That brings more questions, and in as few words as possible, I describe the young man—more likely a teenager—with the long hair and tell them briefly about the girl in the room.
“Elian Prince is not a very nice man,” Rob says thoughtfully.
“Should’ve brought her with me.”
Rob gives me a sober look. “We’ll go back for her.” His words have the weight of a vow. More than anything, Rob Loxley is a fighter for the downtrodden. If Elian Prince is trafficking in young people, ending that becomes almost as important as stealing the diamond.
The ride home is long enough for my throat to heal, for my equilibrium to return, and for me to realize that, had my attacker been successful, I would never have seen Marcus again.
Unacceptable.
Once at the house, I retreat to my room, where the bed is too short and the space too small for any serious exercise. Worse, the modern clothing Will and Rob purchased for me doesn’t feel comfortable. I change, and wash, and fight the urge to find Marcus.
My room overlooks the backyard, and there’s a light on in the barn. I inhale slowly and let the air go, scratching at the stubble on my cheek. The urge to make sure Marcus is safe wars with the need to resist him. Another breath, and safety wins.
Or desire. I’m afraid to examine my motives too closely.
The barn’s rear door is locked which gives me one more chance to change my mind. On our previous visit, Rob showed me how to open the lock with my palm. Bracing myself, I press an open hand to the small black box.
The room is dim, with only a single light illuminating the portion of the desk where Marcus works. His head bobs to some invisible beat, and if he hears me enter, he gives no reaction.
He does react, however, when I touch his shoulder, leaping from his chair. “Damn it.” He spins around to face me, high color in his cheeks. With one hand, he pulls a white nubbin out of each ear. “Jesus, John. I had no idea anyone else was in here.”
I draw myself up to my full height. “Lucky it was me who startled you, and not one of de Lisle’s men.”
He raises an annoyed brow. “Sonny told me this place was secure.”
“As secure as we can make any place.”
“Sure.” He exhales in something like a sigh. “Well, is there something you want, aside from scaring the shit out of me?”
To give him the real reason—to make sure you’re truly safe—would land awkwardly now. I face him, hands on my hips to keep from grabbing him. “You’re working late. Are you”—I clear my throat—“making progress?”
There’s a shift in his expression, a small motion of his lips as if he’s fighting a smile. “They sent the least tech-savvy guy in the club to make sure I’m doing the work?”
My brows draw together at the slight. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, I’d apologize, but I’m not wrong.”
We stare at each other—something that’s not a hardship for me. He’s got his curls held back from his face with a thin headband, putting his delicate features on display, and if I lifted him up, he might well wrap his legs around my hips and that would be . . . My breath comes short.
Either that, or he’ll slap me.
Aware that my cheeks are getting hot, I look away first and grab one of the rolling office chairs. “Tell me. Please.” I deliberately keep any trace of command from my voice. “Using simple words so I understand.”
Shaking his head, chuckling even, he meets my gaze directly, his smile fading away. “After you tell me what went down tonight.”
Unconsciously, I rub my chest where the creature’s first blow landed. “It could have been worse.”
He leans into his chair, stretching out his legs. “I’ve got time. Talk.”
There’s something so approachable about him, a quality I both enjoy and envy. Almost despite myself, I begin, giving him rather more detail than I’d shared with Sonny and Rob and ending with a fairly unnerving, “And I’m not sure what the invisible creature was.”
“I think invisibility is a rare gift among vampires,” he says.
“You know a surprising amount for someone so young.”
His grin has a touch of the devil in it. “And for an old guy, you do okay.”
We stare at each other and this time I don’t blink. There’s something between us, a heat that is more than desire. He’s so young, so bright, and so very beautiful. “Thank you,” I say gruffly. “Now tell me about the computer things.”
“Eh, it’s late. Tomorrow I’ll catch you up on the twenty-first century.”
Teasing me? I blink, shaking my head. “That would take quite an effort on your part. I’m not sure it’d be worthwhile.”
“I don’t know.” His tone is light, his shrug easy. “You should let me be the judge of that.”
This is dangerous ground, as he’s already proven his ability to make his own decisions. “I might not be familiar with your computers, but I’ve spent many years studying the earth and the plants surrounding us.”
After that awkward segue, the heat rises in my cheeks. I hadn’t meant to boast.
“I bet,” he says, graciously going along with my subject change. “I grew up in the Northwest, and I’m still getting used to the flora and fauna around here. How does this place compare with the Greenwood?”
I chuckle, grateful for the rescue. “I spent days on the side of the mountain where we met, and in that time, I felt the land’s question.”
“Question?”
“In the modern city, there’s little balance between giving and taking. The land gives and the people take. That situation cannot go on forever.”
“Yeah, going to run out of water soon, if nothing else.”
“It’s possible.” I shift in my seat. “Tell me about the area you grew up in.”
His smile is a small, fond thing. “Seattle? It’s a lot greener than around here, and the old growth forest on the Olympic Peninsula is one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever been.”
“What does old growth mean?”
“The forest has never been logged, so some of the trees have been there for hundreds of years.”
“Like the Greenwood.”
“Except without the magical password thing.” His grin is a signed invitation, and I have a good idea what he’s inviting me to do.
“Don’t,” I whisper. Despite my best intentions, I pick up his hand, and he allows me to move it. “Feel this,” I say, running his fingertips over my rough whiskers and the weatherworn skin of my cheekbone.
“Compare that to your own.” He allows me to move his hand, brushing his fingertips down his own smooth cheek. There’s so much heat in his gaze it might burn me.
“I am old, Marcus, a greybeard to your young sapling. Don’t waste your time on the likes of me.” I realize too late that I’m still holding his hand and, in fact, our fingers are intertwined.
“You know I’m gay, right?” Marcus says.
I blink, puzzled by the unfamiliar term.
“Homosexual? Queer?” He’s still smiling, though his eye is solemn.
I blink again, this time amused rather than confused. “Well, yes, I assumed so. Rob recruits a certain type.”
His laugh is a breath of joy in this sterile room. “Okay, that cracks me up. I’ve been trying to connect the dots between your bunch of misfits, and I guess that must be it.”
I relax, allowing myself a smile too. “I guess it is.”
“Okay, then explain this. Earlier tonight, Will said something about swearing a vow to the Virgin. Did he mean, like, the Christian’s Virgin Mary, because it seems like she’d have trouble with the whole gay thing.”
My smile broadens. “The Virgin I serve is larger than anything a mere human could construct, and I trust that when I meet her face to face, my service will be its own reward.”
“Well, if she’s not going to mind”—he strengthens his grip on my hand—”then kiss me, John Naylor.”
He moves, or we both do, and we meet, a sweet brush of lips that soon turns more urgent.
He rolls his chair close, his knees resting between mine.
His scent wraps around me, warm and earthy, hints of smoke and spice.
He parts his lips and I give in, getting both hands in his hair and angling his head so I can take things deeper.
He’s so warm, and he clutches at my shoulders, his touch strong and sure. There’s a storm building inside me, fueled by need and fear and long-suppressed desire. We pause, both of us breathing hard. If I don’t stop now, I’ll have him on the table, and while it’s sturdy enough . . .
I can’t.
Slowly, I release him.
“What?” His voice is rough.
“It wouldn’t be right.” I have to close my eyes against his confusion.
“Dude, I’m not a kid.”
“No, you’re very much a man . . .”
And my wounds are too great? My last lover’s memory is too fresh?
Oh, for pity’s sake.
I scramble to my feet. “Don’t, um, stay here too much longer. It might not be safe.”
I catch a flash of disappointment from him, which only makes me move faster. Disappointment or pity? I’m not sure I want to know.
I’m not sure I care.
If Rob was here, he would laugh so hard.