by J. Meyers
“She won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. I do.” Hands on hips, Fey stared at him.
Sera hadn’t known what she’d done to Meghan. That was obvious to him now. He glanced back over at Sera again, still by the house. The grey sweater she wore made her eyes glow silver under the silk of her dark hair. The look on her face was a mixture of mistrust, wariness, and fascination.
He’d seen that same look on someone’s face a long time ago. When he’d been human. He tried to remember where—his human memories had faded some. But there was something—he didn’t know what—about her.
He was not going to be able to take care of this the way of the Old Ones. He was not going to be able to just kill them—he would not harm innocents. He shook his head at Fey, briefly closed his eyes. There was nothing left for him to say at the moment.
Well, maybe there was one thing. “Lilith cannot find out.”
Fey actually went pale at the mention of her name.
“Lilith,” she whispered. “Great Hills. Lilith.”
TWELVE
Warmth seeped into Marc’s hands from his immense mug of coffee—practically a bowl of coffee, truth be told. Muddy Waters, he decided, might actually be his favorite coffee shop. And he’d frequented many on his quest to find the twins. But after a week of tailing Luke and Sera, and all the coffee that had afforded him here, he was certain it was the best. Though perhaps it was just the bias of his newly warmed hands.
A line of mostly college students ran half the length of the shop, and passed right by his table. The place was filled with people working on computers, scribbling notes, or simply listening to the slightly-too-loud New Age music.
He took a careful sip of his steaming, dark brew, felt the warmth spread into his chest as he looked around the dimly lit room. The counter stood at the far back wall under chalkboard menus listing a variety of the usual and unusual concoctions of coffees, teas, and hot chocolates. There was something called “steamed maple milk.” Surely, Marc thought, that had to be a Vermont thing.
The tables scattered about were thick slabs of stained wood surrounded by small curved-back chairs. Walls of wide strips of well-worn wood were interspersed with sections of brick and stone. A long dark bench, likely an old church pew, stood along one wall underneath a couple of framed photographs. Huge wooden support posts connected to wide wooden beams under the exposed air ducts on the ceiling.
There was a rough rawness to the place, smoothed slightly by the toasted sweet and bitter scent of crushed coffee beans. The big window looking out onto the street was framed on one side by part of an old tree trunk, with several twisting branches that reached to the ceiling.
His only complaint, other than their taste in music, was that he would have liked the place to be bigger. It was unfortunately small enough that if Sera and Luke took a good look around the room when they got there, they would see him. He flipped the collar of his brown canvas jacket up around his jaw line, and slouched down into his chair. If he kept his head down, he should be virtually unrecognizable. They’d only seen him once, after all. And he didn’t really expect they’d take notice here. They didn’t have any reason to.
He was actually quite good at blending in when he wanted. Years of trying to go unnoticed in school had taught him well—if no one noticed you, no one picked on you. He’d never had aspirations for popularity nor felt the need for the approval of whoever happened to be the flavor of the month. He’d just wanted to get through it unscathed.
He’d had a core group of friends back then. Three other guys he’d known since grade school. Over time, through similar interests or common dislikes, they’d migrated toward each other. They’d looked out for each other, hung out, talked about girls, and teased each other mercilessly.
They’d been his best friends.
Or so he’d thought.
The camaraderie had given him a false sense of security, of the invincibility of their bond.
A bond that turned out to be very vincible, after all. When they’d discovered what he could do—after a few too many beers one night—they hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. They’d shut him out. Completely. It was as if he didn’t exist anymore.
It had been the last time he’d had anything to drink stronger than a cup of coffee.
Marc took a deep breath now and let it out, shaking the memory free as he took another sip. It had been just after the friend fallout that his power had sparked or spiked or whatever it was that had happened that threw it out of control, pushed him into the cold dark hands of the Shadows and the downward spiral he’d been on ever since.
It had started slowly. Thoughts were louder in his head at first. Then it was the jumble of too many thoughts, not being able to focus his ability. When he was in a highly populated place—like school—he’d be constantly bombarded with everyone’s thoughts. All at the same time.
He discovered that the farther he was from people, the less noise was in his head. It was quieter, but it didn’t fix the problem or allow him to regain control. As soon as he was near others the cacophony would begin all over again. And that would bring on the migraines.
But at least he could function when he was away from people. Far, far away. From all people. So he’d dropped out of school and left home. Which was just as well. He no longer had friends and essentially didn’t exist in school. It was not a good time.
He’d learned that people couldn’t be trusted.
At least not normal people.
Ah, normal people. They were all normal people. Except, perhaps, for Sera and Luke, who had just walked into the coffee house and stood waiting in line right next to his table. Again, he felt the odd mental pull of them, the intense awareness of their presence in this room. Even if he hadn’t seen them come in, he’d know they were here.
He pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes and raised his mug up in front of his face. And then he took a moment to bask in the quiet in his head. He didn’t know why, but they silenced his mind. It had a different feel to it than when the Shadows were near—that silence felt cold, controlled, oppressive. But this felt comfortable.
However, he wasn’t here to enjoy the silence. He needed information, so he reached out with his mind to listen to the thoughts around him, and focused on a few people who’d come in a bit after Sera and Luke. It was a group of three high school girls standing way back in line. They perked up immediately as soon as they saw Luke, their thoughts and words swirling in Marc’s mind. From where he sat, though, he couldn’t tell what was spoken out loud and what was just thought. He could actually hear very quiet conversations because people always thought the words they said out loud as they were speaking them.
Luke Raine! Ohmygod! He’s so cute.
But he’s with his sister. I can’t go talk to him with her standing right there. I wonder if he likes me.
Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you what she did today. She tried to kiss Ethan.
No. But why would anyone want to kiss Ethan? Blech. His kisses are so slobbery. Like kissing a St. Bernard.
In front of everyone. Including Naomi.
It was Naomi’s Ethan?
Oh yeah.
Were you there?
Right there. I still can’t believe she did that.
What is her problem? Is she a masochist?
Marc risked a quick glance at Sera and Luke, who appeared to not have heard any of the conversation. He took another sip of his coffee.
…has any other friends. You know? Just Luke and Fey. Oh and Quinn. What a freak he is.
She’s never even had a boyfriend. But who’d want to date her? She’s not the nicest or the friendliest.
Luke’s kinda like that too. Do you think she makes him do that? Because he’s just so cute.
I’d do him.
Claire! Honestly. You are so crass.
I’m just saying.
I wonder if he’s dating anyone. Maybe he has a colleg
e girlfriend? Maybe he likes me.
Maybe he’s dating Fey. Ugh, Fey. I hate perfect people.
Oh, Fey. Yeah. He probably is—she’s so beautiful.
The line moved toward the counter, Sera and Luke walked forward with it. The hum of people’s thoughts returned to his mind once they were about six feet away. Thankfully, they hadn’t noticed him sitting there. They’d been talking quietly, something about Sera meeting up with their dad for dinner, but he hadn’t listened very closely since he’d been concentrating on the girls behind them.
Now that Sera and Luke weren’t practically sitting in his lap, he considered them. If Sera was as guarded as she sounded, then she was not going to be his way in. She’d cut him off before he even got to “Hello.” He’d have to go through Luke first then meet Sera when he wouldn’t seem like a threat.
Or a date.
Same thing.
And he’d have to deal with Fey, too, since she seemed to be close. From what he’d observed, she was almost always with them. So he’d probably need to make friends with her, for Sera and Luke to really trust him. He hadn’t seen anyone else around them much, so he wasn’t going to worry about whoever Quinn was. Once they trusted him, he should be able to confirm they were the ones.
Watching them for the past week, Marc was pretty sure that Luke was the seer and Sera was the healer. Several times he’d seen Sera bend down to place a hand or two on someone who’d just gotten hurt while Luke looked on, only to have that person get up a few moments later looking as if they’d never felt better.
Marc couldn’t believe that no one else noticed—it was right in front of them. He was astounded that these two had kept their secret for so long.
And it was amazing. To have that kind of power? What he would give for that. Though, to be honest, he’d give everything he had to get rid of his own. If only he could be cured of that affliction and be like everyone else.
He wondered, suddenly, what it would be like to hear Luke’s thoughts as he had a vision. It’s not like he’d be able to see what Luke saw—his ability didn’t work that way—but he’d be able to hear what Luke was thinking as it happened. Now that would be interesting.
He focused his mind on Sera and Luke, just to check again.
And found complete silence.
It was so strange to him, the complete and utter silence of their minds. Just like the Shadows. It made him wonder if they were a couple of rogue Shadows on the run and the rest of their kind were hunting them down to bring them back. That might explain the Shadows’ interest.
Except, Marc thought, Sera and Luke didn’t appear to be evil. They seemed normal, except for the abilities they had. And if he was certain of anything in this world it was that the Shadows were evil, heinous creatures. Of that, he had no doubt.
He watched them place their order at the counter. Sera looked back at the people behind them, then turned and said something to Luke when she saw the girls. Marc could hear them still twittering away about Luke, who turned and smiled at them. Their thoughts became louder in his head as they were excited by Luke’s attention. He concentrated to turn them down to a hum so he didn’t have to listen to it.
They turned from the counter, with their drinks to go. As Luke and Sera walked by the girls still waiting in line, Luke nodded and said, “Hey.” They all smiled and hey’d back, then craned and twisted to watch him walk out of the shop with Sera. Marc thought he heard Sera say something to Luke about his new girlfriend, and Luke laughed, shook his head. He could see them through the large picture window at the front of the place, standing out on the sidewalk. Fey walked into view and Luke handed her the extra cup.
They talked for a few minutes, then Sera and Fey walked off to the right, while Luke stood with his back to the coffee house, watching them leave. Then he turned abruptly and came back inside. Marc scrambled to get his cap back down to cover his face, lost control of his mug, and spilled half of his coffee all over the table. He put his cup down in the puddle on the table, and sighed. Man, wasted coffee. Wasted good coffee. As he glanced back up, Luke pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
“I thought that was you. I’m Luke.” He held out his right hand, a warm smile on his face and a slight wariness to his eyes. “Who are you?”
THIRTEEN
Perched on a stone outcropping on Mt. Aeolus in southern Vermont, Jonas peered into the massive cave. Nothing. He listened hard, breathed in the air to find any peculiar scents. Still nothing. None had used this portal recently. The bats inside the cave slept, the sun not yet set. This was good. He closed his eyes, focused his mind on a place north of there.
And disappeared.
In the span of one breath he stood at the edge of an island in Malletts Bay, over a hundred miles to the north. As the sun started its descent over the mountains across the lake, Jonas gazed into the deep, dark water of the bay. It was calm, as he’d expected.
As he’d hoped.
He relaxed—which he could only allow himself to do in private. In front of his coven, however, he’d never dare. But he was relieved. Lilith still didn’t know. It had been a full week since Meghan’s transformation, and no one knew. No one was trying to hunt down Sera or her family. No one was causing problems in his territory. Worlds had not collided.
Yet.
He knew it was coming. It had to. Someone would find out. Someone would tell Lilith. It should be him—it needed to be him—but he had to figure out how to convince her not to kill them. And with Lilith that was going to be next to impossible. She delighted in it too much. He didn’t, which she considered to be his greatest short-coming. Still, she had a soft spot for him, he knew, and he hoped to use that to his advantage.
A whisper of movement behind him made Jonas whip his head around, instinctively sniff the air. Vampire. Devlan. His second in command.
“Jonas?” Devlan’s voice was deep, raw. His shaved head gleamed in the fading twilight. “Everyone’s waiting.”
“I’m coming,” Jonas said. He turned back to the water once more, for a last look. Still quiet. No sign of anyone coming up to this world.
He turned and walked back through the woods to the meeting house, a large stone building at the center of the island. Nearly two hundred vampires waited for him inside. His coven. He could feel them—their power, their thirst, their collective intelligence. Keeping track of and controlling them was a task he didn’t relish, and it was going to get near impossible when they found out what the healer had done.
No, for the time being, it was better to keep them all behaving themselves in ignorance, protecting the secrecy of their own existence and that of the Realm.
Devlan stood at the door, waiting for him. As Jonas approached, he opened the door wide, allowing Jonas to sweep through. He strode down the middle of the room quickly, vampires flinching out of his way as if afraid of his touch. He smiled at that.
At the front of the room, he snapped around to face them. Silence greeted him. Hundreds of black eyes glittered at him. He met them all, one by one. Everyone was accounted for. Good.
Jonas nodded to them and his voice echoed in the wide room. “Vita brevis, mors aeterna.” Life is short, death eternal.
“Vita post mortem,” the vampires intoned, “vita aeterna.” Life after death, life eternal.
“Vita aeterna, mors aeterna,” Jonas said, and began the meeting as he always did. “I see all are present.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“Not all, Sire,” Xavier said from the back of the hall. “Meghan is not here.”
Jonas cursed himself silently for the slip, but didn’t say anything.
“Has anyone seen her?” Xavier said. He was a head taller than anyone else in the room, a gaunt, towering stick of a man with a voice that carried like thunder. If Jonas were a lesser vampire, he’d have been afraid of him.
As it was, none of them were a match for Jonas. Certainly not Xavier. A vampire’s sire had control over how gifted a fledgling was. J
onas had made sure Xavier was strong, but not too strong. Jonas hadn’t liked him when Xavier was human, liked him even less as a vampire, but he’d needed to build his corps of guardians for his territory, and Xavier had fit his one requirement to be turned—he’d been on the verge of death.
There was a restlessness around the room as it became clear no one had seen Meghan recently.
Ezekial nodded at Jonas “I saw her a week ago. As did Jonas.”
A voice called out from the crowd, “She’s human.”
All eyes turned toward the speaker. Tall, lean, and tattooed, he lounged against a far wall, arms crossed over his chest. His long black hair hung to his shoulders and he wore a dark leather vest over a short sleeved white t-shirt. Damien. Jonas gritted his teeth. Meghan and Damien had been close. Too close. She must have contacted him before she left town. She damn well better have left town.
“She’s human,” he said again, and licked his lower lip.
Xavier laughed. “Impossible,” he said, voice rich with arrogance.
“But true,” said Damien. “Ask our illustrious leader.”
Everyone turned back to face Jonas. Xavier, Jonas noticed, looked back and forth between he and Damien, trying to figure out if this were some kind of joke.
If only it were.
Jonas glared at Damien for a moment. “It’s true,” he finally said into the heavy silence.
“Impossible,” Xavier said again, but this time he sounded much less sure of himself.
“Unfortunate, yes,” Jonas said. “Impossible, no.”
The uproar was deafening.
When Jonas returned to his house at the far end of the island after the meeting, he sat on the back porch steps and looked out at the water in the darkness of the night. This was his spot, his chosen place to sit and think.
He looked down at his hands for a moment, studying his palms, the strong fingers still callused from his life two hundred years ago. His hands were remarkably steady after what just happened. Which meant he was either good at faking his role as leader or he’d actually turned into the cold, vicious tyrant his coven had cowered beneath this evening.