by Susan Illene
The lock screen went away, and a message appeared telling him he needed to do an update. An update? The damn phone was only a few months old. He muttered a curse and tapped the screen to cancel the message. It led him through a couple of more prompts before he finally reached the “home” screen he recognized from Emily’s instructions. He searched for the address book where several of his friends’ names and numbers had been programmed. Finding Lucas, he tapped the nephilim’s name. Bartol’s large finger accidentally hit the wrong spot on the screen, and the phone started to call Cori.
“For God’s sake!” He tapped madly, barely able to stop the call before it went through, and tried Lucas again. He was much more careful aiming his finger this time.
“I can see you’ve finally moved into the twenty-first century,” Lucas answered after one ring.
Bartol snorted. “Hardly. You have no idea what I just went through.”
“It cannot be worse than when Kerbasi learned to use a cell phone. He broke three of them before he learned to make his first call. It took two more phones before he mastered it.”
Though Bartol could hardly stand to hear the guardian’s name, it did bring him some comfort to hear Kerbasi had fumbled with technology even worse than him. “My phone is still in one piece, though I was tempted to throw it.”
“Do not feel bad. Even the most technologically adept humans are known to toss their phones into walls for one reason or another.” Amusement colored Lucas’ tone. “I have a few more phones on standby in case you break that one.”
Why did that not surprise him?
“I wanted to speak with you about training Tormod,” Bartol said, wanting to get to the point of his call.
“What have you decided?”
Bartol paced across his living room, clutching the phone to his ear. “I am willing to give it a chance.”
“Good.” There was a brief pause, and it sounded like Lucas was shuffling through some papers. “I will bring him by Monday afternoon after his physical training to introduce him to you. If all goes well, he can get there on his own after that.”
“Monday?” Bartol hadn’t expected things to move that quickly. That was less than two days away.
Lucas chuckled. “He grows restless at the compound. The sooner we get him out of there for a while, the better.”
He supposed he could understand that, considering his own reasoning behind taking up the offer. “There is something else I wish to speak with you about as well.”
“Yes?”
“Have you heard about the man who attacked Cori?” Bartol asked.
“Melena told me. She believes he was a vampire, and she’s already working on a way to track him down,” Lucas replied.
That would make sense. Bartol couldn’t see any other way the man could have disappeared that quickly the other night. “I should tell you that I got the sense Cori recognized him. Did she happen to say anything to Melena about it?”
Lucas was silent for a moment. “He is a man from her past, but my wife swore me to secrecy on the details, and she will likely remove my entrails if I tell you anything. You must ask Cori if you want to know anything else.”
“She denied she even knew him,” Bartol growled.
“I am surprised you are this concerned. Cori is just a human after all.” There was more than a little curiosity in Lucas’ voice.
“She brings me food sometimes,” Bartol said, using the first excuse that popped into his head. “And her meals taste far better than your wife’s cooking.”
Lucas laughed. “Cardboard boxes taste better than Melena’s cooking.”
“This is true.”
“But something tells me Cori bringing you food is only part of the reason you’re being protective of her.” Lucas paused. “Is there any other reason?”
Bartol couldn’t get anything past his old comrade, but it wasn’t any of his business. “She is your wife’s friend. The last thing I want is for Cori to die on my watch, and Melena to come after me. I prefer my entrails to stay inside my body, the same as you.”
“A wise choice.” Lucas chuckled. “But you are only fooling yourself if those are your only reasons for helping a human. Be honest, Cori can be endearing…in her own way.”
“There is nothing more to it,” Bartol said, refusing to acknowledge the mixed emotions he felt on the matter.
“Try talking to Cori again,” Lucas suggested. “She needs you, whether she realizes it or not.”
Bartol didn’t know what to think of that. “Very well, I will.”
Chapter 6
Bartol
The scent of barbecue smoke wafted down the road—coming from Cori’s place. Bartol set the last of the logs he’d finished chopping on top of a pile next to his house and turned to glare in a northerly direction. It was Sunday—the human female’s day off—and she’d chosen to spend it driving him mad with the tantalizing aroma of grilled meat. Bartol knew damn well the woman had done it on purpose and had likely prepared enough for the both of them. It was her way of beckoning him without having to show her face to do it.
It hadn’t worked the last time she’d tried it, but he was sorely tempted today. First, because he was hungry and the food smelled good. Second, because he had a few things to say to her since discovering she was hiding details from him about the man who’d tried to attack her. Bartol was the only person who could keep Cori safe when she was at home. If he had to put up with her constant meddling, she could very well put up with his.
He flashed inside his cabin, washed his face and hands, and changed into blue jeans and a black t-shirt. His brown hair was a disorderly mess and could use a good combing, but he left it alone. Bartol didn’t want to appear too well groomed, or it might give Cori the wrong impression. He certainly didn’t want to encourage her.
Gathering his powers, he relocated to her front lawn. He found her sitting in a white plastic chair next to the grill with her legs sprawled out, drinking from a beer bottle. Cori had dressed casually in a red tank top, black jeans, and a pair of leather boots. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail that brought attention to her prominent cheekbones and sharp hazel eyes. It annoyed him. No human woman should appeal to him as much as she did.
She lifted her gaze to his and gave him a knowing grin. “I was wondering if you might stop by this evening.”
“You did not wonder,” he growled. “You hoped.”
Cori shrugged. “Whatever.”
“When will the food be ready?”
“Soon.” She reached for a red and white ice chest next to her and pulled a beer from it, holding the bottle out to him. “Sit and drink with me while we wait.”
Bartol worked his jaw, noting she’d set out a second chair just for him. There was no way he could possibly sit with her and drink a weak beverage while attempting to act as if they were friends. “I will return when the food is done.”
“Is it the beer?” she asked, frowning at the bottle. Before he could reply, she returned it to the ice chest and pulled a flask from next to her chair. “Maybe you’d prefer this?”
Curiosity got the better of him and Bartol grabbed it, unscrewing the lid to sniff at the contents. The toxic scent of the drink assailed his senses as if he’d inhaled fire. It was dishevna, a specially brewed alcohol for immortals that didn’t taste all that wonderful, but it could get them drunk. There were numerous variations of the drink out there since it was always home brewed like moonshine, but based on the scent of this one, it came from the master vampire in Juneau, Alaska—Nikolas.
“How did you get this?” Bartol asked.
Cori took a slug of her beer, pretending indifference. “Melena gave it to me when I was over at her house the other day.”
“Drinking straight from this flask would kill you.” The liquid was pure and possibly strong enough to knock out a nephilim for a few hours if he consumed the whole container. It was made that way so that it could be mixed with other beverages or get someone drunk very fast if
they preferred.
“It isn’t for me,” she said, gazing up at him with innocent eyes.
“You planned this.”
She snorted. “It isn’t the first time I’ve tried to draw you here, but you’ve never taken the bait before.”
“You’re damn right I haven’t. What is it you want from me?”
Cori set her beer down on the ice chest. “For you to sit here for one meal and have an actual conversation with me. Is that too much to ask?”
There was a time when it wouldn’t have been, but these days were different. Every moment he stood there made him feel that much more uncomfortable. She was too human and normal for someone like him. “I have better things I could be doing right now.”
“Like what? Organizing your shoes by size and color?”
His lips almost twitched—almost. “I only have two pairs, so that wouldn’t take long.”
“Then what?”
“My floors could use a fresh coat of wax,” he lied. “And my gutters need cleaning.” That second part was true and something he’d planned to do before he’d caught the scent of her barbecue cooking.
She leaned forward in her seat, a gleam in her eyes. “Can I watch you clean them?”
“Perhaps.” He crossed his arms, knowing what she implied and choosing to play along in his own way. “If you tell me about the man who threatened you the other night. How you know him, and the reason he came after you.”
Her gaze turned icy. “No.”
“Then I am wasting my time here.”
As he began to turn away, she called out to him. “Bartol, wait.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“I’m not keeping this a secret for the reasons you might think.” Cori lowered her head and sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“So is my life, but that has yet to stop you from interfering with it.”
She rubbed her face. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am.” It was about time she realized that.
“You won’t look at me the same if I tell you, and I’m just not prepared to face that,” she said, slowly lifting her gaze to meet his. That hint of vulnerability he’d seen the other night was back again. The man who had tried to attack Cori had certainly affected her on a visceral level.
Bartol barked out a laugh, choosing to lighten the mood. “I can’t possibly think much less of you.”
Her lips thinned. “Fine, if you really want to know…he’s my ex-husband.”
He stilled. Out of all the possible answers she might have given him, that was not the one he’d expected. He would have to be a fool to think she’d never been with another man, but not once did he consider she’d ever been married. Her lifespan seemed far too short for her to have made such a commitment and to have ended it already.
“How long ago did you divorce?” he asked, taking a step closer.
“About seven years ago.” She cleared her throat. “I was young and stupid.”
It was like he was seeing her for the first time as a person with a real history. Though she hadn’t revealed much, there was a wealth of emotion in her voice that told him the story was far more complicated and painful than she wished to discuss. He suddenly wanted to know every detail. How did this wild and crazy woman become the person she was today?
“Why did your former husband come after you?”
She let out a snort. “We didn’t end things on the best of terms.”
“I gathered as much, but why did he come after you now?”
“I’m still trying to figure that part out.” Cori grabbed her beer and slugged the rest of it down. Avoiding his gaze, she reached for another one from the ice chest.
He hesitated for a moment, then settled into the chair a few feet apart from hers. If she was willing to open up, he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to remain with her a little while longer, especially since the aroma wafting from the grill motivated his stomach to stick around. He could hardly blame himself for wanting to keep the woman company under the circumstances.
“Lucas told me he might be a vampire,” he said, taking a sip from the flask.
The potent liquid burned going down his throat. Bartol couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk such a strong concoction, but it had to have been before he went to Purgatory. Perhaps it was even the reason he’d ended up in the damned place to begin with, or at least the start of how he got there. He would have to take it easy this time so that he didn’t do anything he might regret.
Cori rose to her feet, not answering him right away, and went to check on the steak and chicken she was grilling. She flipped them, keeping her back to him as she replied, “We don’t know for sure, but the signs are pointing in that direction.” She paused, and her back stiffened. “It didn’t even occur to me he might be a vampire, though I should have figured it out with the way he moved and looked.”
“How long has it been since you last saw him?”
Cori shut the lid on the grill and took her seat again. “About four years.”
Bartol stared at her. She was focusing a little too much on opening the bottle of beer she’d pulled out earlier, and she’d yet to look directly at him in the last few minutes. Whatever was going on with this ex-husband of hers, he doubted a simple lack of chemistry was the reason for their separation.
“Why did you divorce?”
She finally got the cap off of the beer and took a long swig. Almost a minute passed before she answered, still keeping her gaze averted. “He wasn’t a good man.”
Bartol clenched his fists. “Did he hurt you?”
“Yes.” Cori finally turned her head toward him, and he saw bitterness written all over her face. “I was weak back then, and I put up with it for too long before I finally got out.”
“You weren’t weak. You were young and inexperienced,” he said, hating to see the self-loathing in her eyes. He was the one with the monopoly on that.
She shook her head. “So many people warned me before we got married, but I didn’t listen because I was in love.”
Bartol had no doubt in his mind that Cori’s ex-husband had hurt her emotionally and physically. He’d been in this world long enough to read all the signs now that he was looking more closely at her. It was impressive how well she’d hidden it before, but he supposed she’d had plenty of time since getting out of that relationship to build up her defenses and put on a mask no one could see past. Many immortals developed such a talent. Bartol didn’t see it with very many humans, though.
“I will kill him for you,” he vowed.
She gave him an ironic look. “Good luck. I already tried that, and it didn’t work out too well.”
He stiffened. “You tried killing him?”
“I thought I succeeded, too—until the other night.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse in her voice as she spoke, only frustration.
“Tell me exactly what happened the last time you saw him.”
Cori went on to tell him how she’d found her ex-husband, Griff, in his home and beat him with an iron poker until she was certain he was dead. Afterward, she’d dumped the body in a remote area.
“I didn’t think for a second that he might still be alive,” she finished.
“Not everyone dies as easily as you might think.”
She studied his face. “You’re not judging me for it?”
“Why would I?” His hand tightened on his flask. “I’ve killed men for far less.”
Cori got up and checked on the meat again, which she deemed finished. She moved everything over to a platter she had waiting next to the grill and turned to face him. “Everything else I prepared is in the kitchen. I can fix you a plate and bring it out here, or you can join me inside.”
He couldn’t go into her home, especially since the dishevna was starting to lighten his mood. There was a bed and other useful furniture in there that his alcohol-affected mind might get ideas about. “I prefer to eat out here.”
“Okay. Be back in a few.�
� She hurried up her porch steps.
Cori returned a few minutes later with two plates filled with tantalizing meat, potato salad, and beans. They ate in companionable silence, which Bartol found surprisingly nice. It was as if learning that the human woman had her own dark past gave them a certain kinship. She’d also refrained from asking him about himself. For once, she was giving him the space he needed while still showing a willingness to talk about her past. He knew she’d left a lot of the story out—such as what incident finally drove her to try killing her ex—but it wasn’t something that could be rushed. She would tell him in her own time when she was ready. The hardest part was already out of the way.
After they finished their meal, he stood and looked in the direction of his house. A part of him wanted to stay longer, but he chose to believe the alcohol still affected him. “I must go.”
She nodded, a hint of disappointment in her gaze. “I figured as much.”
“I will patrol outside regularly in case your former husband returns.” He couldn’t give her what she really wanted, but he could do that much.
“Don’t worry about me.” She lifted her chin. “Griff can’t get inside if he’s a vampire, and I won’t leave my house after dark, so I’ll be safe.”
“You cannot even open the door. That would be all he needed to compel you, and that’s assuming he hasn’t gotten strong enough to do it with his voice,” Bartol warned.
A slow smile spread across Cori’s face. “Vampires can’t compel me. At least, not the younger ones, and older immortals have to use a lot of power to make it work.”
Bartol blinked. Very few humans who weren’t sensors had minds that could resist compulsion. “I assume this has been tested before?”
“A few times. Lucas’ brother, Micah, is the only one who has managed it so far, but Melena told me later it took him a couple of tries to make it work.”
Micah was twenty-five hundred years old and quite powerful. He shouldn’t have had any trouble with Cori, which made Bartol even more curious about the woman than before. “Is there any chance your former husband tried to compel you the other night?”
Her brows drew together. “Actually, I think he did. He ordered me to come to him and got really angry when I refused. That’s when he started to attack, and I shot him.”