“You told me that,” said Naelen, coming out of the bedroom area, pulling a new shirt over his head. The bedroom on this plane looked pretty comfy. I guessed if you had a private jet, you could deck it out however you wanted.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“I wish you would,” he said. He gazed at me with his blue, blue eyes. “I’ve been rather open with you about things I don’t tend to like to talk about. I trust you. I wish you would trust me too.”
I sighed. “It’s hard to talk about. It’s all…”
“Complicated?”
I laughed helplessly. “Really damned complicated.”
“Start at the beginning.”
I rubbed my forehead. “After my parents died, Gina and I got shuffled around to various foster homes. We always stayed together. We made sure of that. Gina’s older than me, and she—”
“Wait, she’s your older sister?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Huh,” he said. “I thought it was the other way around for some reason. I guess because you’re always taking care of her.”
“When we were little, she took care of me. But then we got put in this foster home and…” I sighed. I didn’t even know how to talk about this.
“And something happened,” he said. “Something bad?”
“That’s where I met Logan,” I said, purposefully evading his question. “For a while, it was a good place, because the woman who ran it, she was really sweet. Her name was Angela Clarice. Mrs. Clarice. But we all called her Mother Angela, and she took in as many kids as she had room for. Didn’t care what kinds of kids. Magical creatures, crack babies, anyone was welcome.”
“Thank you for lumping me in with crack babies,” said Naelen.
I made a face. “Well, you know what I mean. There are foster homes out there who see those things as equally undesirable.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I guess you’re right. So, if she was so nice, then why wasn’t it a good place?”
“She was too nice,” I said. “A man came back, one of her old foster kids. He told her some sob story and said he needed a place to stay just until he got back on his feet. She let him stay, because she had a big heart. And he did help her out around the house. He would mow the lawn and do repairs on the cars and even do the laundry and vacuum and stuff like that. But he… something was wrong with him. He was…” I chewed on my lip.
“He was what?” Naelen leaned over the seat he was sitting in, intent on my story.
“Mean,” I said. “Cruel. Horrible. He liked hurting things. People. He could hide it. He could act as if he was the nicest, sweetest guy, but deep down, there was something wrong with him.”
“He hurt you?” said Naelen.
I shook my head. “Not me.”
He sat back in his chair. “He hurt Gina.”
“He hurt her bad,” I said. “And not… not in an obvious way either. She wasn’t cut up or bruised or…” My voice got weak. “I don’t know what exactly he did to her, but afterward, she was never the same. She was broken.”
Naelen grimaced. “Jesus.”
“Logan was my friend,” I said. “Most of the kids didn’t like him, and he was only awake at night, and he was alone a lot. But I would stay up with him and we would go exploring in the attic or running around in the barn. There was this barn there. It was, um, it wasn’t really a barn anymore. They were fixing it up and turning it into these apartments and Mother Angela was going to rent them out for extra money, because she never had enough money for everyone. Her only income was from the state, from the foster kids, you know? So, she was turning this barn into apartments, and that was where Max was staying.”
“Max?”
“He’s the one who hurt Gina.”
“Oh, okay,” said Naelen. “Got it.”
“Well, anyway, we used to play over there. I mean… sort of play. We were a little old for…”
“How old were you?” said Naelen.
“Gina was fourteen,” I said. “I was twelve. Logan was thirteen.” I swallowed. “Max was so much bigger than him. I remember that back then, I was taller than Logan. It’s the way things are with girls and boys. He hadn’t gone through his growth spurt, and I had at least three inches on him. Max was… like a giant.”
“What happened?” said Naelen.
I wished I had a drink. If we weren’t heading to fight Cunningham, I’d ask for something. Something potent. “Max was huge, and he towered over Logan, but Logan was strong. Gargoyles are so strong.” I shook my head. “Even still, when Logan jumped on him, Max fought back, and I was afraid…”
“Wait a second, Logan went after Max?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It was my fault. I said that I wished I could kill him.”
“Kill Max.”
“Yes. He hurt my sister, and she was all I had. And I wanted him to pay. I wanted him to…” I looked away. “But when it happened, when he was finally… There was so much blood.”
Naelen was quiet.
“I think it messed with him.”
“With Logan?”
“Yeah, I think it messed with his head. It messed with my head. I think it was a hard thing to do, to kill someone, even a bad someone. I mean, I know it is. I’ve had to kill vampires before, even drakes. Always because my life was in danger, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t… affect me. I don’t know, though. Maybe I could do it because I saw…”
“He killed him? Logan killed Max?”
I nodded. “And then Logan ran. He’s been running ever since.”
“He’s still running from the law?”
“No,” I said. “Everyone thought it was an accident. No one ever tried to pin it on Logan, even though he’d run away at the same time. Foster kids run away, you know. It’s pretty common.”
Naelen let out a long, slow breath. “An accident? I don’t understand.”
“We threw Max’s body out of the loft, down onto the ground. So, everyone thought he fell.”
Naelen rubbed his forehead. “That’s awful, Clarke. That’s just… Hell, I feel like such a whiny idiot going on about my parents abandoning me when you were going through—”
“No, don’t,” I said. “Pain is pain. Your pain matters. I don’t ever want you to think it doesn’t.”
“So, you feel grateful to Logan?”
“He killed someone for me. I feel… we have some kind of bond, I guess. We always will. He’s important to me. After Max was gone, living with Mother Angela was good again, and Gina and I stayed there for a while. Then Gina became a drake, and we had to run too. But no matter where we were, Logan always found us. And when you’re sixteen years old, and this guy who’s literally willing to kill for you tells you he loves you, you… how do you say no to that? Besides, I care about him too, I just…”
Naelen waited.
“I just wish he wasn’t so intense sometimes,” I said. “And I wish he wasn’t so… damaged. I don’t exactly have the healthiest of psyches myself. How am I supposed to be with him when I’m not even sure I’m capable of coping with my own issues? Between him and Gina, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Is it too much to ask to be with someone who can take care of himself?”
“No,” said Naelen. “Not too much to ask at all. In fact, I think that’s a prerequisite for a healthy relationship.” He shrugged. “Not that I know much about healthy relationships, mind you.”
I laughed softly.
He laughed too, a little.
We were quiet.
“So,” he said. “You’re not going back to him, then?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.” I furrowed my brow. “Why does it matter? Just because I’m your friend and you care about me?”
He sucked in a thoughtful breath. “You know, I’m not sure. I find that when I think of you with another man, it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know what that’s all about.”
“You have no ri
ght to care about what I do with my own body,” I said.
“I know that.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “But theoretically, I could have a right to care if I were to lay claim to you somehow, yes?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not a piece of property. I don’t get claimed.”
His gaze raked over my skin, lingering over the parts of my body. “But if I agreed that I would be exclusive to you, then you’d be exclusive to me?”
“What are you asking me?”
He raised his gaze to my eyes, but he lowered his voice. “You do want me, Clarke. You want me right now. You’re probably wet for me and getting wetter as I say this.”
My jaw dropped. “Stop being vulgar.”
He reached for me, and he tugged me over onto the seat with him, so that I was on his lap.
I struggled. “After the story I just told you, you can’t possibly think I’m in the mood for this.”
His breath tickled my ear. His voice was low. “Are you kidding? It all comes from the same place. Sex, fear, violence. It’s all… primal.” His hand went to the button of my jeans.
I seized his wrist, stopping him. “What are you doing?” But my pulse was racing and my body felt all strange and tingly this close to him, and there was a heaviness between my thighs, and hell, he was right. I was aroused. But that didn’t mean anything. It was just a stupid reaction my body was having.
He nuzzled my neck. “Let me touch you. Please.”
“Naelen, you are seriously—”
“If it’s all about this commitment business, then fine. I’ll swear off other women, and I’ll only be with you. Just let me have you. Right now. God, Clarke, let me—”
The voice of the pilot broken in over the speaker in the room. “We’re beginning our descent. We’re looking at arriving within ten or fifteen minutes.”
He chuckled in my ear. “Ten or fifteen minutes, huh? I can work with that.”
“Get your hands off me,” I breathed.
“You sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes,” I said, but my voice wasn’t strong.
He let go of me.
I vaulted off his lap, but my legs weren’t steady. I reached out and grabbed something to keep myself upright. God damn it. I was very turned on. Again. That dick.
“Quick flight,” he smirked at me.
“You’re an asshole,” I said. “If I didn’t care about saving your damned sister, I would leave the minute we landed and find my own way home. You can’t just… assault me like—”
“Oh, please. I barely touched you. There was no kissing. There was no stroking or petting or—”
“Stop,” I said. I took several deep breaths. “No more of this, Naelen. No more.”
“Later,” he said. “Later, we will continue this conversation.”
Like hell. I didn’t want to continue the conversation, and that was only because some weak, stupid part of me not only wanted the conversation continued but wished that I’d let him unbutton my pants. That part of me needed to be squelched.
No, this was not going to go on. We’d kill Cunningham, and then kaput. The end. No more Naelen Spencer in my life.
* * *
Cunningham’s new digs was a sprawling one-story house in the desert. It was very modern, but it had the aesthetic of something old and native. It looked as if it had been built from adobe and it had a terracotta tiled roof. But it was also quite updated and posh. It had central air and little brick pathways around landscaped beds of cacti and desert flowers.
I wasn’t sure how Cunningham had managed to find a place like this so quickly. Did he rent them? Did he own them? Maybe he owned houses all over the country, and he just flitted from one to the next. Could you use the arrowhead to make money? Was that how he did it? With magical copies of cash?
We scoped out the house for a while, but it was incredibly hot outside, and we were fairly sure we weren’t going to see anyone coming or going from the place. We were going to have to get inside somehow. We knew from previous experience that Cunningham didn’t seem to lock his doors—at least he hadn’t in Highpoint, anyway. We couldn’t be sure if he’d wisened up.
We had more problems than just Cunningham, of course. There were two other vampires—Mara-or-Eloise, whichever was left—and Edmund Stevens. Each of them would probably have an object of some kind.
But that was all right, because each of us would have an object. After some discussion, we decided that I’d keep the pendant and Naelen would take the arrowhead, only because he was better with magic and we thought he might be able to wield the copy-maker better than I could. If there had been a body of water handy, he would have taken the pendant, because an invisible dragon would have been pretty freaking handy right about then.
But we were in the middle of the desert, so no water was around.
And we had waited to have this conversation until after telling the jet pilot we wouldn’t be needing him for hours. We could have waited, I suppose, but every second that we did was another that something horrible could be happening to Reign. Naelen was insistent we get going.
So, I took out the pendant, and I touched it. I disappeared.
I reached out and found Naelen’s hand.
I tried not to think about how big Naelen’s hand was or about how I could smell his unique scent being this close to him or about how I could still remember the way he kissed and it made my stomach do flip-flops.
We approached the house.
We entered a room that might be called a den. It was lined with bookshelves and there were several leather easy chairs sitting around a small round table. There was an ashtray on the table and some cigar butts in it.
Carefully, quietly, I shut the door behind us.
But the sound of the door shutting was still clear as a bell.
I froze. Naelen froze.
He squeezed my hand.
We waited.
I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out.
Naelen tugged at my hand.
I guess he figured we were in the clear. Time to get moving forward.
We moved through the room, between the easy chairs, avoiding the table and the ashtray, heading toward the doorway.
But then someone stepped into the doorway. It was Edmund Stevens. He furrowed his brow, looking around the room.
We stopped moving again.
He stepped into the room, inches from us.
We backed up.
“Mara?” he said. “Is that you? Are you running around invisible again?”
We didn’t answer.
“I heard the door close,” he said. “I know someone’s in this room. Stop playing games with me.” He took another purposeful step into the room.
We backed up again. We backed right into the table.
The ashtray rattled against it.
“Aha!” Edmund reached for us.
We evaded him with inches to spare.
“Oh, Mara, don’t be like that.” He rolled his eyes. “I think you’re boring anyway.”
“Well, I’m not trying to entertain you,” said Mara, who had just appeared at the doorway, holding up a small comb with several teeth missing. “I’ve got the comb, not the scarab.”
Edmund looked back at Mara, and then down at the table. “I could have sworn…”
I decided there was no time to act like the present. I let go of Naelen.
He became visible.
Edmund yelled.
Mara yelled.
Naelen made a little noise of surprise.
I yanked three arrows out of my quiver and sent them all sailing at Mara.
Edmund dove for Naelen.
Naelen struggled to get his machete out.
One of the arrows hit the wall behind Mara.
Edmund bared his fangs.
The next arrow hit Mara in the shoulder.
Naelen pulled the machete free.
The third arrow burrowed in Mara’s neck. Blood arce
d out of the wound.
I ran for her.
Naelen stabbed Edmund in the gut.
Edmund shrieked.
Mara put a hand to her bleeding neck, her eyes wide.
I got out my machete.
Naelen yanked his out of Edmund’s body.
I swung.
Naelen swung.
Two vampire heads toppled right off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Clarke,” whispered Naelen.
“I’m here,” I said. I was still invisible. I reached down to pick up the comb that Mara had been holding.
He was going through Edmund’s pockets. “I’m not finding any objects here,” he said.
“Well, maybe Cunningham has them both,” I said. I crossed the room to Naelen and touched him.
He winked out of sight. He let out a little startled noise. “Hey, warn me before you do that.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“What’s left?” he said.
“The scarab and the stylus,” I said. “The stylus is the power enhancer.”
“And the scarab?”
“Makes you invisible,” I said.
“Great,” said Naelen. “So, he could be anywhere, then?”
“Yeah,” I said grimly.
“Let’s get moving,” he said.
We stepped out of the den and into a large high-ceilinged great room. There was a wall of glass opposite us, with floor-to-ceiling views of the desert. A sectional couch sat in front of the glass wall. Behind the couch was a huge brick pillar that contained a fire place. The floors were all polished stone slats.
It was empty.
Where were all the blood slaves?
Where was Reign?
I peered to my left, where the great room continued. A breakfast nook near a stained-glass window, a yellow lamp hanging over the table.
Then a dining area. Big rectangular table surrounded by chairs. In the middle, a flowering cactus.
And tucked in the far left corner, the kitchen—sleek and clean—its polished counter tops gleaming.
But that was empty too.
To my right, there was a hallway. I could see about ten feet down it, but then it twisted, turning off to one side.
Smoke (The Slayer Chronicles Book 1) Page 21