Blood Sin (2)

by Marie Treanor

  Turning her back on it, she crossed the road and walked on to the department building. She was anticipating a difficult morning with her most problematic tutorial group.

  On the other hand, she didn’t expect to find one of her students already waiting at her office door.

  “Hello, Emma, you’re early,” she greeted the girl, who looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. There were dark rings under her eyes and lines of worry around her usually smiling mouth. Emma Forrest, who sometimes reminded her a little of her younger self, had blossomed during this year, both academically and socially, and Elizabeth didn’t like to see her upset. “Revision giving you trouble?”

  “Um, no, not really . . . I just wanted a quick word with you before everyone gets here. Is that all right?”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said, unlocking the door and preceding her inside. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to like this. “Come in. Coffee?”

  “Thanks, no, I’m fine.” Emma closed the door firmly behind her.

  Elizabeth threw her bag and jacket on one of the tables and sat down, indicating the seat beside her.

  “I have a problem,” Emma blurted as she sat. “With Gary Jackson.”

  It was no comfort that Elizabeth had seen it coming. Gary wasn’t an evil lad but he had shown signs of acting stupidly, becoming aware of the power of his size and flexing more than his intellectual muscles, sometimes quite inappropriately. He and Emma had been together for a few weeks until, according to the rumors Elizabeth overheard, he’d slept with her friend and Emma had ditched him. Elizabeth had been pleased about the parting. She’d always felt the dynamic between Emma and Gary was somehow wrong.

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  “We’ve split up,” Emma explained. “But Gary won’t accept it. He’s plaguing me.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’s too . . . physical. The trouble is, he knows I still like him in, er, that way, but I’m damned if I’ll go out with him again. I really don’t want him back. He doesn’t believe me. He waits for me in places he knows I’ll be, cornering me, making it hard to get away. This is the only class we share, and I just know he’s going to sit beside me and . . .”

  “And what?” Elizabeth prompted. There was an uncomfortable parallel here: Saloman’s teasing pursuit of her in Romania and Hungary, her rejection of him in her head while her body cried out for a taste of whatever he had to offer. Somehow it had all gone way beyond that, but Emma’s words brought those early days rushing back.

  Emma’s hands twisted together in her lap. “Get in my face, humiliate me in front of the others . . .” She glanced up, a miserable plea in her tired eyes, and with a mixture of relief and pity, Elizabeth knew this was nothing like her own experience after all. Gary Jackson was no Saloman. “Look, Miss Silk, I know this sounds silly, and it’s nothing to do with work, but I need to ask you a favor. Make him sit away from me, and if you could find an excuse to keep him back for a minute or two when the tutorial finishes . . . ? You think I’m being an idiot.”

  “Not at all,” Elizabeth said ruefully. She’d glimpsed some of this behavior last week but hadn’t realized the extent of it.

  “It’s stupid.” Emma dashed one hand across her tired eyes. “I used to love it here. Now I can’t wait for the next couple of weeks to be over so I can get away for the summer. I used to really like Gary, and now all I feel is . . . threatened.”

  “I’ll separate you,” Elizabeth promised. “And I’ll have a word. Sounds like he needs sorting out.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” Someone had to, because left to his own devices the bullying would get worse and Emma would certainly not be the only victim. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with him,” she said with a comforting grin.

  At least it won a weak smile from Emma. “I’ve heard you do judo.”

  And that’s not all.

  As the clump of feet on the stairs sounded, Emma twitched with obvious alarm. Elizabeth gave her arm a quick pat and stood up. “Sit where you are,” she advised, and went to take her usual seat at the short end of the table farthest from the door.

  Gary was not the first to arrive, and the seat to Emma’s left was not available by the time he wandered in. However, the one on the right was, and, watching carefully, Elizabeth saw his eyes gleam. He was, she allowed, a very good-looking bloke, tall, broad shouldered, and carelessly handsome. Clever too, but beneath the clear intelligence, his gray eyes were a trifle bloodshot. Hangover, Elizabeth recognized. Which wouldn’t make him easier to handle.

  “Ah, Gary,” she called as he began to pull out the chair next to a rigid Emma, and crooked her finger.

  Insolently, the lad stood still, gazing at her. “What?”

  “A word, please,” she said dryly. Since he picked up, as he was meant to, the fact that he might not like what she had to say to be overheard by the others, he moved reluctantly toward her.

  Elizabeth gestured casually to the chair beside her. “How’s revision?” she asked as he sat on the edge of it, as if not planning to stay.

  He shrugged. “All right.”

  “You think so? You left too quickly for me to talk to you at the end of the last session, but your responses then led me to believe your understanding of constitutional issues is still not deep. If you want to shine, Gary, you need to put in the hours.”

  She caught the flash of resentment with some pleasure before she looked up and asked the last in to close the door. James MacQueen obliged and dropped into the vacant chair beside Emma.

  Satisfied for the moment, Elizabeth began the revision discussions. While the others talked and argued with occasional gratifying surges of enthusiasm as well as inevitable clashes of personality, she watched Gary, who watched Emma. Oh, yes, the bastard was aware of the effect he was having on her. He rather liked the element of fear he was inspiring, and knew she was still physically attracted to him, however reluctantly. Elizabeth could see it in his body language, his casual, open-legged crotch display as he sat back from the table. And he was unrepentant when he caught her observation, merely grinned at her.

  Oh, yes, they needed a chat.

  “Okay, I think we’ll stop there,” Elizabeth said, bringing the class to a close. “I’m sure you’ll all do fine. Good luck with Friday’s paper! Not you, Gary,” she added as he leapt to his feet, no doubt to get to Emma on the stairs. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’ll be back,” Gary said, walking purposefully away.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Although she didn’t shout, she put every ounce of steel she had into that phrase, and it cut through the cheerful departing babble like a knife. Everyone glanced between her and Gary. Watching, wide-eyed, Emma edged toward the door. Elizabeth didn’t blame her. She had no idea whether Gary would obey. If he didn’t, she’d need to find some other way of dealing with him.

  Slowly, he turned back toward her, his gaze flickering around the interested stares on its way to Elizabeth. Their eyes locked and Elizabeth saw exactly why Emma was afraid of him. His face was blatantly intimidating, his gaze hard, almost glaring into hers. It didn’t help that he was far taller than she. A year ago, even less, Elizabeth would have been petrified. As it was, she wanted to smack him and tell him to grow up.

  Restraining herself, she held his gaze, even gave a condescending smile. “I’m sure you can spare me five more minutes from your important schedule.”

  A derisory snigger from one of the students greeted this. Someone else said, “Five less in the coffee bar, Gary—how will you cope?” And Gary, presumably realizing what a complete arsehole he’d look by leaving now, raised one hand in farewell to his friends, and Elizabeth knew she’d won the first round.

  However, he began almost as soon as the door was closed. Taking a step nearer her, he said mockingly, “Another talk? Miss Silk, how have I managed to attract so much of your attention?”

  “By sloppy work and ill beh
avior,” she returned at once. “We’ve already discussed the first. Now I’m coming to the latter.”

  He leaned closer, definitely in her personal space, large, male, and overwhelming. At least, he meant to be overwhelming as he said with open mockery, “How do you want me to behave, Miss Silk?” He managed to speak her name in a tone that crossed insult with caress.

  “With courtesy and respect,” she replied as calmly as she could.

  Gary smiled, a young man who believed himself irresistible both physically and sexually. “Oh, I respect you, Miss Silk.”

  “No, you don’t,” Elizabeth snapped. “Right now the only respect I see in you is for the immature and hungover adolescent I’m looking at. Sit down,” she ordered before the shock in his eyes gave way entirely to anger. She guessed it was a long time since anyone had made him feel small, and it wasn’t a technique she normally approved of. In this case, however, it seemed necessary.

  But she misjudged him. The anger was there, all right, furiously there. But he had an arsenal of weapons. Changing tack, he smiled through his hatred and, instead of stepping back out of her personal space, he actually reached up and touched her hair.

  “Aw, Miss Silk,” he said soothingly, “what’s got you so hot and bothered?”

  “Take your hand off me,” Elizabeth said evenly.

  The boy’s smile only deepened as his hand touched her neck. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll make you,” Elizabeth warned.

  “How?” Gary asked with soft derision. Just before she swiped his legs from under him with one flick of her foot and pushed him into the seat behind, keeping him there with one hand hard on his chest.

  “I asked you to sit,” she said coldly into his stunned face. “And now you listen to me. There’s a word for boys like you who discover they like bullying women. Don’t make me use it, not to your face, and not to your parents or to the university authorities. You can’t bully me. Nor can you bully Emma Forrest.”

  He sat still with shock under her hand, as if his testosterone had melted. But at Emma’s name, something flashed again in his eyes.

  “Take your dismissal like a man,” Elizabeth warned. “True—before you say it—of course your love life is not my concern, but stalking, threatening, or intimidating my students is. There’s a watch on you, Gary. I’ve initiated it. For now it’s unofficial, but if you step out of line, if you so much as look at her—or anyone else—the wrong way, action will be taken and more than your reputation will be ruined. Do you understand me?”

  His mouth twisted. Elizabeth removed her hand and stepped back.

  At once he leapt to his feet, breathing like an angry bull. Even now, he hoped to stare her out. There was a lot of pent-up anger there. The question was whether he was prepared to use it against her. She knew without any doubt that it wouldn’t do him any good. Although he was bigger, he only imagined he was stronger. She was faster—she was a powerful descendant of Tsigana and the Awakener of Saloman. He couldn’t possibly know it but the boy didn’t stand a chance.

  “Do you understand me?” she repeated. For an instant longer, it hung in the balance. Bafflement began to replace the anger in his face, as if he still didn’t quite understand how she had the upper hand. He gave one brisk nod, just as the door opened and her colleague Joanne came in.

  “Elizabeth, have you got a—” Joanne broke off, gazing at the confrontation before her. “Everything all right here?” she asked.

  “I think so,” Elizabeth said.

  Gary turned away without a word, snatched up his bag from the floor, and strode past Joanne, barely avoiding a collision in his hurry to get out of the room. Joanne raised her eyebrows.

  “Gary.” Partly Elizabeth wanted to see if he’d respond. Partly she had one more thing to say. He paused, at least. An instant later, he twitched his head in the direction of his shoulder. It was as good as she’d get, and she thought it was enough. “You’re a good student, Gary, one of the best. Don’t spoil that.”

  He didn’t answer, just swung out of the room without troubling to close the door.

  “At least he didn’t slam it,” Joanne observed. “What was that all about?”

  “Inappropriate male behavior.”

  “Is that Gary Jackson? I’ve heard he’s becoming a handful. Might have been a good idea to get department support from Richard before you confronted him.” Joanne gave her a quick, anxious scan. “Are you all right? Do you need Richard to intervene in this?”

  “I’m fine. And I think I’ve made my point,” Elizabeth said. Somewhere, she was surprised that both statements were true.

  “So, what are you doing during the holidays?” Joanne asked as they shared sandwiches for lunch in her office. Feet up on her paper-strewn desk, almost on the computer keyboard, she looked ultrarelaxed, but her gaze was uncomfortably penetrating. “Going back to Eastern Europe?”

  “Maybe for a week or so,” Elizabeth answered. “I have a few friends out there I’d like to keep in touch with.” Mihaela had already offered her spare room. “And Richard suggested I think of expanding the thesis into a book. . . . But I’ve got no plans. I can’t really think beyond the PhD thing right now.”

  “Well, that’s one definite plan,” Joanne said with enthusiasm. “The whole department will be out celebrating with you as soon as you hear the result.”

  “Providing it’s the right result,” Elizabeth said ruefully.

  “It will be. Your thesis is brilliant.”

  It’s a load of bollocks. Or at least some of it is. You wouldn’t say it was brilliant if I’d written the truth: that most of these superstitions are based on the fact that vampires have always existed.

  “There’s a permanent post about to come up at Glasgow University,” Joanne observed, reaching for another sandwich without moving her feet. “You should go for it.”

  “I might.” Trouble was, she liked it here at St. Andrews. Unfortunately, her post was for only this year.

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t come back when old Doughty retires,” Joanne encouraged. “But you can’t wait for that. It might only be a year, but it might be three, or even five if he holds on by his fingernails. Richard will still take you before any other candidate. In more ways than one,” she finished with a wicked grin.

  Elizabeth threw a paper bag at her, just as her phone began to ring. Although she took some time to locate it in the depths of her bag, and she didn’t recognize the number, she pressed the receive key before it rang off.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, is that Elizabeth? Elizabeth Silk?” The voice, echoing on speakerphone mode from when she’d called Mihaela, sounded American and vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.

  “Yes, that’s me,” she admitted.

  “Hi, it’s Josh here. Josh Alexander.”

  “Josh!” She jumped to her feet, alarm outweighing her surprise. She’d doubted she’d ever hear from him again. She certainly hadn’t expected it to be so soon. What the hell could have happened since last night?

  Oh, shite, is he here? Is Saloman here again? Inevitably, the possibility spawned a surge of conflicting delight and fear, longing and dread.

  “What’s the matter?” she demanded.

  “Nothing.” Josh sounded amused. “I just wanted to ask you a favor. Listen. I know it’s short notice, but I’ve been invited to this dull party in the Highlands this weekend and I was hoping you’d come with me to save me from boredom.”

  “Party?” she said faintly. “What party?”

  “Grayson Dante’s. He’s a bigwig senator back home, been visiting—and working—over here. He’s invited us to his weekend bash.” She could still hear the lilt of appreciation in his voice, because she hadn’t leapt at his invitation the way most normal women would.

  Josh Alexander had invited her to a weekend party.

  Laughter caught in her own throat. “Thanks for asking me,” she managed. “Especially when you think I’m insane. But to be honest, it soun
ds a bit posh for me. I’d be out of place.”

  “Nonsense. You hold your own in any place,” Josh said gallantly. “But you’d be my guest and I wouldn’t desert you.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. Every personal instinct urged refusal. Social gatherings such as she imagined this one to be were her idea of hell. Plus, she rather thought Josh Alexander’s world would be completely alien to her. Gazing at Joanne’s uncharacteristically dumbstruck face, she wrestled briefly with her conscience. How could she refuse another chance to convince Josh of impending danger? It might make all the difference to whether he survived.

  Conscience, damn it, won.

  “All right.” She sighed. “I mean, thank you, I’d love to. Where do I go and will they let me in?”

  Josh laughed. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday, say around twelve? I’ll call when I hit St. Andrews and you can give me directions to your place.”

  “What do I wear?” she demanded, as another pitfall sprang to mind.

  “Anything,” Josh said unhelpfully. “See you Friday!”

  “Typical bloody male!” Elizabeth stared indignantly at the dead phone.

  “Elizabeth,” said Joanne, who’d been listening in quite blatantly. “Tell me that wasn’t the Josh Alexander, because you know, it even sounded quite like him.”

  “It was,” Elizabeth said smugly. “He’s a cousin of mine. Sort of.”

  “Fuck me,” said Joanne faintly. She took her feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Can I come too?”

  “I wish you could,” Elizabeth said with perfect truth.

  Chapter Three

  The early morning sun struck the high, tiny windows of the hunters’ library in Budapest, dazzling Mihaela as she raised her head to find her colleague.