by Lisa Olsen
“First impression… no,” Mason admitted with a tilt of the head. “But why wouldn’t her Sire want to claim a total biscuit like her?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe Kursik was her Sire at first. It would explain the enhanced abilities and his interest in her.” Not that anyone needed a real reason to be interested in Anja.
“But now you’re thinking no?”
“He told her that Carys was her maker.”
Mason let out a low whistle. “Now there’s a blast from the past.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve thought more about her in the past week than I have in the past hundred years. Longer maybe.”
“Are you thinking Carys might still be alive?”
It was tempting to spin fantasies that she was still out there, wreaking havoc in that special way that was hers alone, but in his heart Bishop knew she was gone. “No, I saw her die.”
“Is that why you didn’t turn Anja in? Because she reminds you of Carys?” Mason asked gently.
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” Bishop lifted his face to the sky, but no answers came.
“Glad to see you’re thinking clearly, buddy.” Mason clapped him on the shoulder.
“I know I should have brought her in, but there’s something about her… can you see her locked up? What that would do to her? None of this is her fault, why should she have to suffer because some asshole bit her and left her to die all alone?”
“Because that’s our job,” Mason replied mildly. “And not to be a downer, but it’s something she’ll have to face sooner or later.”
“I’m shooting for later if I have anything to say about it.”
“You know you’re seriously deranged, right?”
“Why?” Bishop frowned. Not that he didn’t spot the craziness of the situation, but coming from Mason, it was like the pot calling the kettle black.
“Eventually her Sire is going to make himself known. You might be forced to put her down, did you think of that?”
Bishop refused to entertain that thought for even a fraction of a second. If it came to that, he would move heaven and earth to find a way to spare Anja that fate, even if it meant saving her for someone else. For now, he was desperate to find a plausible solution for her to survive the situation she found herself in. “You know, the more I think about it, the more it feels like we’re dealing with an Ellri,” he mused aloud.
“That’s crazy. When was the last time you head of an Elder turning anyone?”
“I know it’s a stretch, but the pieces fit.”
“Why would an Ellri turn her and then abandon her like that? They wouldn’t have anything to fear from the Order.”
“I don’t know, but it would explain her blood, and it would explain the way she was turned.”
“Wait, what about the way she was turned?” Mason’s brow crumpled in confusion.
“She was found dressed in full Viking regalia, with runes carved on the floor of the abandoned house she was turned in.”
“Huh. You didn’t mention that little tidbit before. So whoever turned her was either old school or a total nutjob with a Viking fetish.”
“Exactly.”
“What happens when he comes back for her?”
That was the question he faced each time he started to think about giving in to his attraction to the girl. Because if he could be honest with himself for once, he had to admit Anja had gotten under his skin. In that scenario though, he had to ask not what he wanted, but what did Anja deserve? At the end of the day Bishop didn’t know if he was capable of giving her what she needed. “Then I’ll ask him for his papers and move on.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say? You said it yourself, how could I possibly compete with a bond like that? Especially against an Ellri, you know the law as well as I do. No one stands between and Elder and what he wants.”
“True. But you never know what an Elder’s agenda is. You might have a good forty or fifty years with her before he shows up to stake his claim.”
“And you think that will make it easier for me to let her go?” Better never to open that door to begin with.
“Well, that would solve her problems, she wouldn’t need any papers as the progeny of an Elder, and she wouldn’t need you to run interference with the Order anymore so you’d be in the clear. Hell, you might even get some sort of a reward for keeping her safe for him.”
And she wouldn’t need him anymore. Not as a mentor, and certainly not as a protector. Probably not even as a friend after the way he’d treated her. Would that be easier or harder? “What would you do, if you were in my shoes?”
Mason let out a long sigh. “Besides shop for some new clothes? Seriously, you should look into a little color every now and again. The world is not just shades of gray.” Bishop didn’t bother to comment, he just waited for Mason to get it out of his system and continue. “I’m a gambling man by nature. I’d probably figure out a way to get her chipped and scoop her up before any other vamps came sniffing too close.”
Figure out a way to get her chipped. It probably wouldn’t be that hard to accomplish. He’d have to forge some documents to get her into the system, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. Many of the old ones resisted getting a subdermal chip implanted and didn’t carry papers with them, relying on their blood to carry them through any question of identity. He couldn’t deny that the urge to protect her was strong, and this would certainly accomplish that, whether he took it any farther on a personal level or not.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Bishop allowed. “A good place to start at any rate.” He felt better now that he had a plan of action for the immediate future.
“You know you can’t adopt her as your own though.”
“I’m well aware of the vows I took.” More than most, he had accepted the Jacari as the driving force in his life, there was nothing else.
“I’m just saying…”
“She doesn’t test as a newborn. I wouldn’t have to list her as mine. I could say Carys was her Sire. There aren’t many still alive who could dispute it.” He could do this, he could make it work. He could be her mentor. That would keep Anja safe and he could still see her and she wouldn’t have to keep making those puppy dog eyes at him whenever he told her to go away.
“And if her Sire shows up to lay claim to her?”
Bishop honestly couldn’t answer that one, not yet. “That will be an interesting day,” he allowed with a grim smile.
“Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out then, good luck,” Mason clapped him on the shoulder again. “I just have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Does she have a sister?”
Chapter Twenty
On the prowl. Come on Anja, you can do this… I sat at the end of the bar, the same bar Bishop had taken me to, but I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy the atmosphere. When I’d woken up, I felt that slight flush of warmth, the telltale sign I needed to feed soon. Now that I knew what to look for, it was easy to recognize, and I didn’t have to worry about it getting so out of control again. I made a list of pros and cons for going to the same bar, and the pro column won by a landslide. Without Bishop to guide me, I went for as much familiarity as I could muster.
It was impossible to think of feeding without remembering the experience with Bishop. The way our bodies pressed together, the heady sense of power as Josh’s life force poured into us, the kiss... I had to fan myself as another rush of heat went through me that had nothing to do with the thirst. More than anything, I wanted to feel that way again, but Bishop had made it clear I was on my own, despite his appearance the night before. It was up to me to step up and figure out how to do this vampire thing on my own. I had to stop acting like a wallflower and remember I could have anyone in the bar I wanted, thanks to my handy dandy vamp powers.
Yep. Anja on the prowl. Humans beware!
Only who to pick? Everyone seemed like they were either with someone or waiting for someon
e. Maybe it was the wrong kind of venue for a single hunter like me after all? I didn’t have the right temperament for approaching total strangers, which meant I had to either catch someone’s eye across a crowded room, or wait for someone to approach me.
I’d reverted back to more of my own style, with a pair of skinny jeans and a black fuzzy sweater (in case I got any blood on my outfit). But instead of wearing a blouse under the sweater, I opted to go without, which left one shoulder bare and about all the lure I could manage from my own wardrobe. It didn’t exactly scream siren, but it also wouldn’t attract a great deal of attention, a plus in my books.
Just then, I caught someone looking, a guy about my age, on the shorter side, with sandy brown hair and stooping shoulders. It turned out we had a lot in common. We were both college students, fans of Dr. Who and terrible monster flicks on the SyFy channel, preferred hot chocolate to coffee, and weren’t much for heavy drinking. In any other circumstance, I probably wouldn’t have minded hanging out with Stan, though there definitely weren’t any sparks on my side of the conversation.
It didn’t take much to talk him into leaving with me, I didn’t even have to use a hint of compulsion on him. The lure of a coffee shop and late movie were enough to get him into the parking lot, and from there I grabbed his hand, tugging him over by the dumpster.
“What’s going on?” he asked, a silly grin on his face, and I almost lost my nerve. But I was the predator and he was my prey. This was the way it had to be, right? In a few minutes he’d be on his way with an interesting scar and a hole in his memory, and I’d have a full tummy - no harm, no foul.
“I want to show you something.”
“But we’ll miss the beginning of the show,” he objected and I focused on exerting my will, instantly calming his objections.
“Trust me, this is better.”
“Trust you,” Stan murmured, his eyes vacant.
The blank stare unnerved me, and I had trouble approaching him. “Close your eyes,” I ordered and he immediately obeyed. His height made it easy for me to reach his neck, but I couldn’t bring myself to go for it and dig right in. That was the problem, wait too long and I was liable to take his head off, eat too soon and I got squeamish about the process.
I had to get my head in the game and do it before I lost my window of opportunity and someone came along. That thought was enough to make me stop and extend my senses, making sure we were truly alone. Apart from something that scurried under the dumpster (and I personally voted for stray kitty rather than rat in my imagination), we were the only ones out there. “Stop being such a baby…” I murmured, leaning in close. I felt my fangs descend the closer I got to the throb of his pulse.
In for a penny, in for a pound… Once more, I was overwhelmed with the bright taste of blood as it exploded across my tongue. Had I said I wasn’t hungry? At the first drop of blood, a terrible craving consumed me body and soul, and I drank as though I might never slake my thirst.
It wasn’t sexy and it wasn’t a game. It was carnal, pure and simple, a physical need without any of the sensual trappings of my last feeding. Dimly, I was aware of the fact that Stan wasn’t having a very good time, and a tiny part of my brain wondered what I’d done wrong, but mostly I drank and drank as if I’d never get my fill.
I felt his heart shudder and quake beneath me and I knew it was time to stop. Hell, it was way past time to stop, but knowing and doing are two very different things. Even though part of me screamed inside that I was taking too much, my body wouldn’t obey until I felt his heart quiver and stop. Only then was I released from the spell his blood wove over me, and he slumped to the ground as I abruptly let go.
“I’m sorry!” I wailed, falling to my knees beside him, desperately searching for a pulse. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, please…” I switched to his wrist, not finding anything on the neck. “This isn’t happening,” I murmured, hot tears spilling down my cheeks as I wondered what to do. Calling an ambulance was out of the question… Suddenly I had a flash of insight. My blood could heal him, right? I fumbled at my wrist, pushing the sleeve out of the way as I brought it up to my mouth, but my fangs had already retracted. Closing my eyes, I bit down as hard as I could, my muffled cry of pain rewarded by the slight trickle of my own blood.
“Stan? I’m trying to help you. I can fix this.” I held my wrist up to his mouth, but he didn’t stir as the drops of blood hit his lips. “Stan, can you hear me? You have to drink…”
“Anja, no…” Bishop pulled me away from Stan’s body, his hand clamping over the wound at my wrist. I didn’t even stop to wonder what he was doing there, I only knew I had to make it right.
“I need to help him, I took too much, he’ll die.” I tried to struggle past him, but his grip was too strong for me. “Bishop, please…”
“It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not too late. My blood can heal him, you said so yourself. Let me help him!”
“He’s already gone.” Bishop pulled me into the shelter of his embrace, obscuring my view of the body. “Let him go, Anja. There’s nothing to be done.” I sagged against him, tears falling in earnest as he held me. I wasn’t sure who I felt more sorry for, Stan for losing his life, me for having to deal with taking a life, or Bishop who kept getting drawn back into my life.
“I’m so sorry,” I wept, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. I felt Bishop’s touch at my back, his hands strong and comforting.
“It’s not your fault, it’s your nature, remember?”
“How can you say it’s not my fault? I killed a man. Ten minutes ago Stan’s biggest problem was too many writing intensive courses this semester and because of me he’ll never graduate. He’ll never do anything ever again because I chose him and lost control.”
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s my fault for pushing you off on your own before you were ready.”
As much as it surprised me to hear that coming from him, I couldn’t let myself off the hook so easily. “It’s not your job to look after me.”
“Could have fooled me,” he murmured and I pulled back to look at him a little closer.
“What are you doing here?” Why hadn’t he stopped me before it was too late?
For a long seconds, I thought he might not even know himself, and his answer sounded hesitant. “Looking out for you?”
“Well you’re doing a crappy job,” I sniffed, tucking my head back down against his chest where I felt his rumble of laughter.
“I could leave again if you’d rather be alone.”
“Don’t you dare.” My arms tightened around him. It was a crutch, but I needed it in the worst way at the time. Eventually my storm of emotions subsided enough that I started to worry about discovery. “We have to do something about his body before someone finds us.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he offered, and once again I was surprised. Was this the same Bishop who kept telling me I was on my own?
“But it’s my mess…”
“Anja it’s fine, I’ll take care of it.” Letting go of me, he reached for his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard as he texted.
“Who are you calling?”
“People who specialize in this sort of emergency. They’ll be here in no time.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you could get rid of a body as easily as ordering a pizza.” I wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. Human beings shouldn’t be so easily disposable.
“Not everyone has access to the same resources I do,” he reminded me. “In the meantime, I think I should take you home. The more removed you are from this situation, the better.” Pulling a cloth from his back pocket, he swabbed at Stan’s face, removing the traces of my blood on his lips. When he was satisfied with the results, Bishop did a quick pat down of the body, and pulled out Stan’s wallet, pocketing the thin sheaf of bills inside.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, outraged at the theft. Nevermind that the crime I’d committed against Stan was far worse.
I couldn’t watch.
Hugging my arms to my body, I walked away, telling myself I was looking out to make sure no one else came along while he did whatever else he was going to do to the body before his contacts arrived.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Bishop’s light touch at the small of my back made me shiver as he guided me to his SUV, and I was grateful he hadn’t ridden the motorcycle that night.
The ride back to my apartment was a silent one. Bishop seemed to understand I needed a bit of space to process what I’d done, though I was grateful for his presence. Even after he parked the car down the street from my building, I made no move to leave the warm cocoon of the vehicle. His phone chirped, and whatever popped up on the display made him scowl.
“What is it?”
“The body is gone.”
“The body, you mean my body? Stan is gone?”
“Looks like it.”
“How could that be? He was dead, really dead, wasn’t he?”
“Dead as they come,” he agreed.
“So he didn’t just get up and walk away.”
“Definitely not. And if someone from inside the bar found him and called the police or an ambulance, they would still be on the scene by the time my people got there.”
“What does this mean?” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. All manner of thoughts made my head swim. Had the blood I’d given him turned him into a vampire and he’d really gotten up and walked away? Had someone stolen the body? What possible reason could they have for taking a dead body?
Bishop’s fingers texted like mad. “Try not to worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it. I’ve already got people checking the dispatch records and local hospitals. We’ll find out what happened to him and take care of it.”