13. The Edge of Trust
Chapter thirteen
The Edge of Trust
Julian
I couldn’t reach the library quickly enough. Nicolette’s text—her picture of the latest threatening note and the words I need you —was enough to make my barely beating heart hammer against my ribs.
“Slow down, brother. Getting pulled over will do you and her no good.”
Cyrus’s tone was maddeningly calm, as if we were out for a leisurely drive rather than racing toward a potential threat. He rarely said Nicolette’s name. He believed I’d been a fool to marry her, and a greater fool to trust her.
And perhaps I was. Only time would tell.
“Don’t lecture me. Not now. Nicolette is terrified.
” For her to reach out to me meant she must be beyond frightened.
I couldn’t tell Cyrus that. Not after all the lies I’d told him about the undying devotion betwixt me and my bride.
I hated lying to him. He’d been with me since the beginning of this forsaken immortal life.
Guiding me, protecting me, even going so far as to become a doctor many times over as he sought to find a cure for us.
“Amos is there and says the building is secure,” Cyrus drawled, as though the entire situation bored him.
“A lot of bloody help that was. How the hell did this fiend get past Amos in the first place?”
Cyrus gave a low, humorless hum. “If someone managed to slip past Amos, they are either exceptionally skilled . . . or exceptionally motivated.”
My jaw clenched. “Neither of those possibilities brings me comfort.”
Cyrus shrugged. “They shouldn’t. But losing your head isn’t going to help her either.”
I shot him a murderous glare as I wove in and out of traffic, breaking a dozen laws. A delivery van lurched into my lane, and I narrowly avoided clipping its bumper. “I would appreciate it if you remembered that she is my wife.”
“Believe me, brother, I know. I only hope she cares about you as much as you care for her. At least she smells more like you now.”
“Don’t go there. You know damn well what a physical relationship between us could do to her. To me. I won’t subject my wife to that kind of life. And what do you have to complain about? Because of her mother, you have a new lease on life, and I told you what Nicolette is willing to do.”
Cyrus was the only person I trusted with that knowledge.
“You realize the danger you’re placing her in? Look at the trouble her mother’s treatment has brought upon her—upon us.”
“I know,” I said contritely. “But to be human again,” I added, the longing slipping into my voice. “Don’t you remember what it was like to warm another body? To look into your child’s eyes and see your own staring back at you? We could have that again if Nicolette succeeds.”
“You know how I felt about my wife and son,” he said, with reverence bordering on warning. He rarely spoke of Juliet and Enzo, nor of how he came to be a vampire. “But being human won’t bring either of them back. I’d just as well remain what I am and protect you from your asinine ideas.”
“You have ever been my protector, and I appreciate it. Even more so now that you protect my wife.”
Cyrus sighed and shot me a pitying glance. “Are you certain you can trust her? Does this newest note not concern you? What secrets did her mother keep? Does she know them? And what does she withhold from you?”
It would be a lie to say the note didn’t concern me. And given the timing of her mother’s death—and even some of the things Nicolette had murmured in her sleep about it—I would be a fool not to recognize the flags it raised. Yet . . .
“You said yourself you found nothing in Grace Hart’s files or at the lab to indicate she had any idea what her plasma treatment meant for our kind.
Or that she was working on anything further related to porphyria.
I thought you said she’d turned her sights toward liver disease.
So what could she possibly know that would be so dangerous? ”
“That’s an excellent question. No doubt whoever is stalking Nicolette is from our world.
No one but one of our kind could get past any of us.
And why would they bother if her mother’s secret didn’t pertain to our world?
If I were you, I’d have some very candid conversations with your bride before you hand over your blood to her. ”
I wished I could tell him that if Nicolette knew a way to destroy me, she would have done it by now. But it begged the question: If she discovered something that could be used as a cure, would she use it as a weapon instead? Did she hate me that much?
My only solace was that I couldn’t picture Nicolette as a murderer. It wasn’t a lie when I said she reminded me there was good in this world. She was good. That much I knew. But had I driven her to become something she wasn’t?
“I trust her,” I said emphatically, though I wasn’t sure of anything at this point. Nicolette had given me no indication she was secretly a killer. But it was clear someone was out to kill her , and that I could not have.
When we pulled up to the library, I was out of the car before I’d properly turned off the ignition. Warm light spilled from the library’s windows, a jarring contrast to the dread coiling in my chest.
I raced up the many large stone steps. Cyrus’s boots struck the stone with a steady, predatory rhythm beside me. He surveyed the entrance with that cold, assessing stare of his, as though expecting blood on the threshold.
“Remember to act normal. We don’t want to alert Nicolette’s friend, Daphne, that this is anything other than a husband missing his wife and offering his help. And do try to be cordial,” I warned. He often came off as an arse.
He grimaced before replying, “If I must. But I tire of humans fawning over me.”
I chuckled lowly, despite being worried sick. “Yes, how awful for you.”
Nicolette swung open one of the front doors. It creaked so loudly, I was certain whoever had placed the note for her hadn’t used the main entrance.
Cyrus and I slipped inside, and without a hint of compulsion Nicolette threw herself into my arms. “Hi, honey,” she said, her trembling voice straining for cheer. “Thanks for coming to help us.” She buried her head in my chest.
My first instinct was to whisk her away, but I needed to investigate the premises myself. And I knew Nicolette wouldn’t leave her friend.
I kissed the top of her head and held her securely against me. “You’re safe,” I whispered.
Cyrus eyed us with curiosity—and a heavy dose of scrutiny. He was right to question our relationship. But it was clear Nicolette was truly frightened. For her to willingly seek my comfort, even my touch, was a significant step forward.
Daphne waltzed over, pushing a cartload of books. Her eyes landed squarely on Cyrus, and she giggled. “Thanks for coming to help us.” She clearly had no idea she’d been in close proximity to a bloodthirsty killer.
I warned Cyrus with my eyes to play nice.
He cleared his throat. “It’s our pleasure,” he said, utterly devoid of feeling.
“We are more than happy to help,” I added brightly. “Would you mind, though, if I had a private word with Nicolette? I carelessly forgot that I wanted her to speak at the next board of directors meeting coming up, and I’d like to ensure she has ample time to prepare.”
Nicolette leaned away from me, wide eyed, but played along. “That might have been a good thing to mention last week, honey,” she said playfully, having no clue that I actually did want her to present at that meeting. But we would discuss that later.
“I’ve had other things on my mind, darling. Mostly how lucky I am to be married to you.” I could practically feel Cyrus’s desire to vomit at the sweet talk.
“Oh. My. Goodness. You two are the cutest,” Daphne sang. “Of course; take all the time you need.”
Her eyes were still fixed on Cyrus, as if she could hardly believe her luck. I could feel her body temperature rise and her pulse quicken. The poor woman had no idea how unwelcome her infatuation was. It had nothing to do with Daphne; Cyrus had long ago vowed never to involve himself with humans.
Cyrus made no move to offer his services, so I had to step in. “My brother would be happy to help you in the meantime. We’ll join you soon.”
Cyrus threw me a look that suggested he’d rather live through the plague again, but he stalked off in Daphne’s direction.
Daphne tittered and mumbled something about taking him to where they sorted the books.
“He’d better be nice to her,” Nicolette whispered, fully aware Cyrus could hear every word.
It was the least of my concerns—my wife ticking off my brother.
Truth be told, he probably deserved it. As soon as Daphne was out of earshot, I cradled Nicolette’s cheeks, peering into her bewildered eyes.
I searched them for any hint of deceit. All I saw staring back at me was pure terror.
If she was lying, she was either a world-class actress or I was the biggest fool to ever live.
“Are you all right, love?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she cried.
I drew her back to me and stroked her silky hair.
She clung to me—and not in her usual I can’t keep my hands off you and I hate myself for it way.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promised.
“You can’t promise me that. This person . . . this thing. They knew I’d be here. Knew exactly what section I’d be re-shelving. They had to be watching me. They could be watching me now.” She looked around wildly, her breathing erratic.
“No one is here. Amos made sure of it.”
“Amos was in here? I didn’t even hear him. I don’t like this. All I ever wanted was to be a nice, nerdy girl and an amazing scientist who discovered cool things.”
I smiled despite the circumstances, brushing my fingers gently across her bare shoulders. “You are so much more than that.”
“I’m not going to be any of those things because I’m going to be dead,” she choked out.
The thought of her dead pierced something deep inside me—something I’d believed had died along with my humanity. A cold, hollow ache spread through my chest. “No, you’re not,” I said flatly. I refused to let that happen.
“You don’t know that.” Her voice trembled, thin and frayed.
“I do. Now show me the note and where you found it.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of folded linen paper. Her hand shook so violently, the paper rustled like dry leaves in the wind. This was no act.
I took it from her, the texture rough against my fingertips, and examined every square inch of it—even though I’d already memorized it from the photo Nicolette had sent me.
“It smells like bourbon and shoe polish,” Nicolette offered. “Not like that helps.”
I lifted it to my nose, the sharp tang of alcohol and the waxy bite of polish hitting instantly. “Actually, it’s quite helpful. This particular bourbon is Pappy Van Winkle. It sells for tens of thousands of dollars, and it’s distilled in Kentucky. And this shoe polish is French.”
“You can tell that?” She seemed mildly impressed, her breath still unsteady.
“Yes. And they could be clues. I’ll have Amos look into it.” I tucked the note into my pants pocket.
She bit her lip and glanced around, her eyes darting to every shadow. “Is Amos still here?”
“He’s outside securing the perimeter. Why?”
She drew herself so close she was flush against my body, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, “Are you sure it isn’t him or someone else in your family?”
I could hardly blame her for making such an assumption. But . . . “Absolutely not,” I assured her.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve known these people for centuries,” I replied—more indignantly than I intended. The words came too sharply. The air between us instantly tightened.
Nicolette backed away, her courage and her walls rising in tandem. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Her pinched features said it all. She was ruling out no one—including my family—and she wanted me to take her seriously.
But I had learned that periods of crisis weren’t the time to start questioning what you already knew. And I knew no one in my family would betray me like this. Even if they had their doubts about my marriage.
Nicolette turned on her heel. “I’ll show you where my would-be murderer left the note.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her right back to me. Sighing, I peered into her eyes, which were swirling with emotion. No doubt she was still frightened, but I suspected she regretted how vulnerable she’d been.
She stared at me incredulously.
“Nicolette,” I whispered. “I know you’re scared, and you have every right to be. I even understand why you question my family. But you need to trust me. Just as I am choosing to trust you.”
“What does that mean?”
I tilted my head. “The note. What secrets did your mother keep? Do you know them?”
“No,” she cried. There was no hesitation in her voice, and her pulse gave no indication she was lying.
“I believe you. See how easy that was,” I teased, trying to lighten the moment.
A single tear rolled down her smooth cheek. She made to brush it away, embarrassed, but before she could, I gently wiped it with the pad of my thumb.
“I’m sorry, Nicolette. Sorry you find yourself in a world you don’t know or understand. Please—I need you to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”
She thought for a moment. “What other choice do I have?”
“I was hoping your answer would be a little more enthusiastic,” I said dryly. “But I’ll take it.”
She offered me a hint of a smirk. “You’re the only person I reached out to for help. Now come on, honey,” she said, patronizing me. “I’ll show you where you almost became a widower.”
She tugged me along, and I curled my fingers around hers.
A dangerous realization settled over me.
It didn’t matter that she’d patronized me or tried to placate me—I cared only that I was the one she’d asked for help.
That she’d chosen me in her time of need.
And I prayed she never realized just how deeply she could undo me.
I could never allow her that power—no matter how beautifully she wielded it.