[Relentless 01.0] Relentless

by Karen Lynch

  I took my time getting dressed, and I planned to take overly long to dry my hair to avoid facing him for as long as possible. The storm had other ideas, however, and the power went out just as I picked up my hair dryer. “Great!” I muttered, groping for a flashlight. I grabbed a towel to dry my hair as best I could and then, unable to delay any longer, made my way downstairs with Daisy close at my heels.

  I found Nikolas in the kitchen, making sandwiches by candlelight with his sleeves pulled up and his leather jacket thrown over the back of a chair. The casual, domestic picture was such a contrast to the image of the warrior I was used to that I stopped short, and Daisy ran into the back of my legs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Dinner. I would have ordered in, but it looks like power is out all over town. So sandwiches it is.” He slid a plate across the counter toward me. “Hope you like roast beef.”

  “Um, thanks… I do.” I mumbled, trying to figure out what he was up to. One minute he was furious, and the next he was making me dinner. If he thought he could throw me off guard by being nice to me all of a sudden, he was right. I had no idea how to respond to this new side of him. To hide my discomfort I grabbed a bag of potato chips from the pantry and a bottle of dill pickles from the fridge, laying them both on the table with two glasses of soda.

  Nikolas carried our sandwiches to the table and placed the pillar candle in the center. I chewed my bottom lip and tucked my damp hair nervously behind my ear when it struck me what a cozy picture we made, eating by candlelight while a storm howled outside. I peeked at Nikolas who seemed quite at ease, piling chips on his plate as if we ate together like this every day. His hair was still damp from the rain and his features were relaxed, almost like he was enjoying himself. He looked up, and his eyes were like liquid smoke in the candlelight when they met mine. My stomach did a little leap, and I immediately found my own sandwich fascinating.

  The sandwich was just how I liked it: roast beef, cheese, and horseradish sauce on rye. I almost asked him how he knew what my favorite was, but I refrained. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how much he knew about me.

  We ate in silence for a minute before he asked the question I knew was coming. “You want to tell me where you disappeared to today and why you came back smelling like you went for a swim in the bay?”

  I stopped nibbling a chip to say, “It was personal business I had to take care of… and I did go for a swim in the bay. Satisfied?”

  “Not even close.”

  There was more silence as I picked up my sandwich and bit into it, refusing to expand upon my story. I felt Nikolas’s gaze, but I ignored him. It was going to take a lot more than a candlelight dinner to make me spill.

  It took me a few minutes to realize the scolding I was expecting was not coming, and I glanced at Nikolas to find him enjoying his meal. Where was the man who had practically shot daggers at me out on the waterfront less than an hour ago?

  “Aren’t you going to yell at me or something?”

  He shrugged without looking up from his sandwich. “Will it make you tell me what you were doing today?”

  “No.”

  “Then why don’t we just have a pleasant meal instead?”

  I scowled at him, not sure what to make of his answer. Was he trying to trick me into telling him the truth? He shows up looking like he’s about to bring the wrath of God down on me and then he makes me dinner and wants to exchange pleasantries. Did I just step into a Twilight Zone episode?

  His next words surprised me even more. “You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. She was stubborn to a fault, too.”

  “If you say it was Madeline, I’m going to throw my pickle at you.” There was no way I was anything like the woman who had given birth to me. She was my biological mother, but that was where the connection ended.

  Nikolas smiled, and his eyes had an almost faraway look. “Not Madeline, no. Her name was Elena, and she was actually Madeline’s aunt, though she died before Madeline was born.”

  “Was she your girlfriend or something?” I asked, surprised by the fondness in his voice. Before tonight, I’d thought of Nikolas only as a warrior, all business and no time for a personal life. But I guess he had to have some kind of life outside of hunting vampires. My Mori stirred, and an alien feeling twisted my gut. Was that jealousy? I gave a mental shake to let the demon know that we didn’t give a fig about Nikolas’s romantic involvements.

  “No, Elena was like a sister to me. She was beautiful, but willful and very spoiled.”

  “Are you calling me spoiled?” Typical male. A strong man was just fine, but let a woman show some free will and she was spoiled.

  He laughed and took a drink from his glass without answering. I glared at him, and his grin grew. “Okay, maybe not spoiled but definitely obstinate.”

  “Pot, meet kettle.” I picked up my own glass. “What happened to her?”

  His expression darkened. “She ignored the rules that were there to protect her and went off by herself alone. She was killed by vampires.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, I’m sorry.” That might explain his overprotective ways toward me. His friend had died at the hands of a vampire, and here I was being pursued by one.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “So does Madeline’s have any family left?” I asked in an effort to change the topic.

  It was the first time I’d expressed any interest in possible Mohiri relations, and Nikolas smiled in response. “She still has some living relatives; her sire for one.”

  “Sire? That sounds so… impersonal.” I thought of my dad, the way he would catch me up in a big hug and read to me before bed. I could not imagine thinking of him as my sire.

  Nikolas laid his napkin across his plate and leaned back in his chair. “It’s just a title. Mohiri families are as close as human families, maybe more so since we do not grow old and die naturally.”

  “So you and your parents all look the same age? Don’t you find that weird?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t think of age the same way mortals do. Humans see it as a way to mark one’s passage through life. Physically, we don’t age once we reach maturity.”

  He might find it normal, but I found it hard to imagine being the same age as my grandparents. Ugh. “So, my grand… Madeline’s father is still alive. Does he know about me?” It was a bit of a shock to learn I had a living grandparent I’d never met. My dad’s mother died when I was ten, and I never really knew her that well.

  “Yes, and he is looking forward to meeting you.” My hesitation must have shown on my face because Nikolas caught my gaze and held it. “He will wait until you’re ready to meet him.”

  “A patient Mohiri, who would have thought it?” I got up and carried our plates to the sink to hide my suddenly conflicted feelings. I had no intention of going to the Mohiri any time soon, but the knowledge that I had a grandfather – even if he was Madeline’s father – out there who wanted to see me caused emotions I did not want to think about.

  “A Mohiri has all the patience in the world when something is worth waiting for,” he replied, and I got the feeling we were no longer talking about my grandfather.

  I started running hot water over the plates. “I guess it helps that you guys are immortal, huh?”

  “So are you,” he said close to my ear, and I almost dropped the plate in my hand.

  “Don’t do that!” I choked, and he laughed softly. He took the plate from me and began to dry it with a dish towel. Does he have to stand so close? I griped as I rinsed the other plate and handed it to him. Something in his manner told me he was doing it just to irk me, and he was enjoying himself immensely. I found myself wishing the old Nikolas was here. I knew what to expect from him; this new Nikolas was too confusing by far.

  Wind rattled the kitchen window, and I rubbed my arms, wishing I’d thought to bring down a sweater or hoodie. Without the power, there was no heat, and this close to the bay, the air was growing col
d fast. I reached for the flashlight to go upstairs and get something heavy to wear.

  “The temperature is going to drop a lot tonight. Does that fireplace in the living room work?”

  “Yes, it’s gas.”

  He walked past me to the dark living room. “Go put on something warm, and I’ll start the fire.”

  I spoke to his back. “So what, we’re going to sit by the fire and roast marshmallows now?”

  “You have anything better to do?” he called back without turning around.

  I had no answer for that, so I went upstairs and dug out one of my dad’s old sweaters. It was my favorite because I could still remember him in it, though sadly it had lost his scent a long time ago. I pulled on a pair of fuzzy moccasin slippers Judith had given me last Christmas and sat on my bed thinking of the irony of the situation. Nate had left me alone here knowing there was no way I’d have a boy over, and his first night away there was a guy here making dinner for me. My uncle would probably have heart palpitations if he walked in the door right now. Just one look at Nikolas and he’d never believe this whole thing was innocent. I couldn’t help smiling at the hilarity of it all as I made my way downstairs again.

  “Where did you find marshmallows?” I asked in surprise when I saw the open bag on the coffee table. I’d been joking about roasting them, but now it looked like the best idea ever.

  Nikolas looked up from his seat on the floor as he threaded one on a long metal skewer and held it over the fire. “Top shelf in the pantry. Want one?”

  “Yes!” I sat in the chair closest to the fireplace and sighed as the heat surrounded me. Daisy came into the room and stretched out in front of my chair.

  “Here.” He handed me the skewer. I blew on the blackened marshmallow as he started another one for himself. For a few minutes, there was no sound but the hissing of the fire and the storm battering the building. I found myself strangely at ease. After my close call at the marina, I was surprised I wasn’t jumping at the slightest noise. But this was actually nice.

  “Have you always done this – hunting vampires? Do all Mohiri become warriors?”

  He sat with his back to the couch and his long legs stretched out across the rug. “Most do, though we have some scholars and artisans. Being a warrior is in our blood, what we are born to do. I have never wanted to do anything else.”

  I absorbed that for a minute. “What’s it like growing up there? Do you live in houses or on some kind of military base? Do you go to school or start training when you’re little?” Since I’d first learned about the Mohiri, I imagined them living like soldiers, sleeping in barracks and training to fight every day. It all seemed so cold and militant, and it did not reconcile with the way he spoke about family.

  He smiled and skewered another marshmallow. “We live in fortified compounds all over the world. The larger compounds look like private campuses, and the smaller ones are basically well-fortified estates. It is not safe for a Mohiri family to live outside a compound because they would be vulnerable to vampire attacks. Families live together, and the living quarters are large and comfortable. Children attend school until they are sixteen, and physical training begins when they reach puberty.” He leaned forward, and the fire played across his handsome face. “It’s a good life. There is a deep sense of belonging among the Mohiri, and everyone who comes to live among us is happier than they were living among humans.”

  I stared at the flames. His meaning was clear, and I did not want to break our moment of peace by replaying the old argument. Maybe the Mohiri were not as cold and impersonal as I’d thought, but I could not imagine being any happier there. My dad would still be gone, and I wouldn’t even have Nate or Roland and Peter.

  The ringing of the kitchen phone cut through the silence, and I jumped up to answer it. It was Nate, calling from his hotel in Boston, his voice full of worry.

  “Hey, I hear you guys are getting hit by a hard nor’easter. Everything okay there?”

  “I’m perfectly fine, Nate. You know how I love a good storm.”

  His relief was audible. “Well if the power goes, there are extra flashlights and a battery operated lantern in the hall closet.”

  “Don’t worry. I have it all under control. How is the conference?”

  He told me about his day and that he’d be at his hotel for the rest of the night if I needed to call him. I laughed and told him he sounded like Judith when she got all over Roland about something. That was enough to get him to say good night with a promise to call and check on me tomorrow.

  As soon as I hung up from Nate, the phone rang again. “Jeeze, what now?” This time it was Roland.

  “Well, you answered the phone so I assume you’re not bound and gagged,” he quipped.

  “No thanks to you.”

  “Ah, don’t be mad. I was kind of freaked out after what happened, and I thought maybe someone else should talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that now.” I was still a little hurt by his defection, and I was in no mood to assuage his guilt tonight.

  “Mom said the power’s out all over town. Are you alright there? Because I can come get you if you want.”

  I let out a sigh. It was impossible to stay mad at Roland when he was sweet like this. “I’m fine. We have the fireplace going and lots of candles.”

  “We? Is he there with you now?”

  “Yes.”

  Roland’s voice raised a notch. “I thought he kept guard outside or whatever. I’m not sure he should be in there with you with Nate gone.”

  “You should have thought of that before you left.” I couldn’t resist the dig. “Did you think we would talk outside in the middle of a storm?”

  “I… um…” he stammered.

  “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I did not want to continue this conversation with Nikolas within earshot.

  “Oh, okay,” Roland said reluctantly. “See you tomorrow.”

  I hung up and went back to the living room to reclaim my seat by the fire. “Everyone’s checking up on me.”

  “The werewolf cares for you.”

  I glared at him. “He’s my best friend, and he has a name, you know.”

  His shoulders lifted indifferently. “We don’t make a habit of being on a first name basis with weres, and I’m sure you know they feel the same about us. It’s just how it is.”

  “Well, I am Mohiri and I have loads of werewolf friends, so you’ll just have to get over it.” His mouth curved as if I’d said something funny, and I snapped, “What?”

  “That’s the first time you’ve admitted what you are.”

  My hand smoothed the fabric on the arm of my chair. “It doesn’t change anything.” I had accepted my heritage weeks ago, because denying it didn’t make it go away. That didn’t mean I was happy about it.

  “It’s a start.” He put his arms behind his head and gave me a devastating smile that I bet had bewitched more than one female. I felt the urge to throw a cushion at the smug bastard, but the challenge I saw creep into his eyes stayed my hand.

  “What else would you like to know about the Mohiri?” he asked when I stayed silent. I didn’t want to satisfy him by showing any more interest in his people, but there were more than a few things I was curious about since I could find absolutely nothing about the Mohiri online.

  “Who is in charge of everything? Do you have a president or a king or something?”

  “Not exactly,” he said with a laugh. “We have the Council of Seven who make up the ruling body, and the most important decisions come from them.” He went on to explain that the seven seats represented the seven continents and the members convened once a month, always in a different location. I asked how they were chosen to be on the council, and he told me that if someone left the council or died, the remaining members selected someone to fill the empty chair. It wasn’t something that happened often. The last new member had been appointed to the Seven three hundred years ago.

  “Do you want to join
the council someday?”

  He scowled and shook his head. “Never. I have no time for bureaucracy and not enough patience to endure the long meetings. I am a warrior, and that is all I aspire to be.”

  I tilted my head sideways. “Didn’t you just say you guys have lots of patience?”

  “When something is worth waiting for,” he qualified. “I care very little for political matters.”

  His statement did not come as a surprise. I could not picture Nikolas adhering well to rules or attempting diplomacy to please anyone. “Something tells me that sentiment doesn’t make you popular with the folks in charge.”

  His eyes gleamed. “They are good at their job, and they know that I’m good at mine. We differ in opinion sometimes, but we all work to the same end.”

  “What do they think about you hanging around some town no one’s ever heard of, wasting time with an orphan instead of out doing your warrior business?” I couldn’t see how one orphan’s safety was more important than all the evils out there that needed to be dealt with.

  “You think you’re a waste of our time?” His voice, though low, had taken on an edge I recognized.

  “I didn’t say I’m a waste of time, but there must be other orphans who need rescuing more than I do. And since I won’t change my mind about leaving, it doesn’t make sense to stick around.”

  “There is an immediate threat here. We were tracking vampire activity in the area before we found you; it was what brought us to Portland that night.” His tone did not soften, and I knew my comment had really bugged him. I didn’t bother trying to figure it out because I doubted I would ever understand Nikolas.

  That reminded me of something else I had wondered about. “Where are you from? You have this faint accent I can’t place and sometimes I think you’re speaking another language.”