by Jenna Barwin
“I get things done for people. Government work, you might say.”
“How do you keep what you are secret?”
“Well, it’s not all that hard. The work I do takes me out of the country, so it’s not like I’m reportin’ to an office or something like that.”
“And what exactly do you do?”
“Whatever they need.”
Something about his glib answer felt off. Before she could respond, he asked, “What about you? What’s your research lab gonna produce?”
“We have a number of projects underway. It’s like I told Gaea—biologics.”
She sounded too vague, even to herself. Leopold didn’t want her giving out details. He thought a general description would entice them, and she thought Leopold was nuts. Why would anyone on the Hill invest in the lab until they knew the benefits? But orders were orders.
“I could give you a prospectus if you’re interested,” she added.
“Sure, I’d like to see that.”
She used her phone to email it to him. “Once you’ve read it, let me know if you have any questions.”
“Will do.”
She glanced back over at Henry. He was staring at her stonily. What? What does he think I did now?
She smiled at him with a polite nod. If she acted like nothing was wrong, maybe he’d lighten up.
He turned away, looking peeved.
Oh well, so much for that theory.
The band started playing and the caller took the microphone, inviting the dancers to line up for the beginners’ lesson. Zeke stood and offered her his arm. A quick glance in Henry’s direction—he was watching her again. She smoothed her skirt along her hips just to make sure it wasn’t caught in her underwear and joined Zeke on the dance floor.
* * *
Henry’s paramour had agreed to a later rendezvous, so here he sat, listening to Dr. Patel and Zeke. He found nothing suspicious about their conversation. It was just the usual inanities of small talk.
The way she glanced at him and smiled—did she think flirting would change his mind? He had turned away to avoid her eyes.
When she began dancing, he studied her again. She had dark brown skin and almond-shaped eyes, but her eye color was deep green, a bit unusual for someone from India.
Whatever he felt at the casino didn’t return. She may have nice legs and a pert behind, but watching her didn’t flood him with a strange sense of peace.
Lust, maybe, but not peace.
His fingers thrummed the table. When her gaze hit his again, ever so briefly, a zing of blood coursed through his body, the buzz of desire growing. He disliked feeling anything for her—even lust. And Rolf’s scheme was ridiculous. If she was spying for Leopold, she wouldn’t tip her hand here.
“Henry.”
“Good evening, Winston.”
The mayor strutted over and sat down. “We don’t usually see you at the square dances. What brings you here?”
“I had a free night.”
“Sure you aren’t here because of Dr. Patel? I saw you watching her.”
“Not at all, Winston.” Henry crossed his arms. Why did I listen to Rolf? Being caught watching her was the last thing he needed. He forced the knots in his neck to relax. “I was watching all the dancers,” he continued. “Square dancing isn’t as elegant as the traditional dances of Mexico, but I may try it sometime.”
“If you say so, Henry, if you say so. Still, I would have sworn your eyes were on her.”
“Then you would be mistaken.”
“Of course, Henry, of course. But if you should change your mind, it would be good if Dr. Patel found a mate here.” The mayor nudged him and raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Strengthen our alliance with the New York Collective, if you get my meaning.”
Seriously? A mate? Never in a million years. “If you think it’s a good idea, then why are you not courting her?”
The mayor sniggered. “I plan on attending some of Gaea’s mixers, but I don’t want to seem too eager. Give her a chance to reject some of the other bachelors first, like Zeke—might make me look better.”
As if anything could make this pompous fool of a mayor look good. “How long will she be on the Hill?” Henry asked.
“Marcus said we have to let her stay at least three weeks, maybe as long as four. The council can extend it, of course.”
Henry shook his head. He should have said something to the town attorney before this. Marcus had given his legal opinion and now they were stuck with her for a month—no point in arguing the wisdom of it. “Well, I wish you all the best in your pursuits.”
“Thank you, Henry. I’m glad to know you aren’t interested. It’s always difficult competing with one of the founders.”
He hesitated. Should he continue with the plan to spy on Dr. Patel? If she was going to be here for a month, someone had to keep an eye on her. “I would not say I’m not interested. I may go to one of Gaea’s functions myself.”
“Well, may the best vampire win,” the mayor said, rising and walking off.
This was why he didn’t care much for the current mayor. For all of Rolf’s complaints, Rolf was right. The Hill was designed to prevent competition over mates.
He watched Cerissa until the dancers took a break. He’d always thought of himself as a breast man, and hers were lovely, but the swing of her hips as she danced truly caught his attention. He could imagine holding those hips and… Enough. He walked outside to the adjacent gardens and phoned Rolf.
“I’ve learned nothing new and I’m leaving.”
“Couldn’t you stay—”
“No. I doubt my presence here is helpful to our cause, and indeed, it has been embarrassing for me.”
“Embarrassing?”
“The mayor caught me watching her and thought I was interested. The last thing I need is to be tied to gossip about her.”
“Wait a minute, Henry. Remember what’s at stake. She’s a threat to our community. It may be worth a little embarrassment to find out the nature of the threat.”
“Rolf, there’s nothing to be done about it tonight.”
“Look—Gaea cornered me after the council meeting. I’ve agreed to host an outing for Dr. Patel tomorrow night. Horseback riding. You should come along.”
“And just what use would my presence be? You’ll be there; you talk with her.”
“I’m the host. I won’t have a chance. I’ll get Zeke to help me with the horses—leaving her free so you can talk with her. Get a sense of her real motives.”
“Perhaps she wants what she says she wants.”
“In which case, you’ve spent a pleasant evening riding a horse.”
The thought of seeing her again, the image of his hands on her swaying hips, sent an unwelcomed surge of longing through him.
He pushed the feelings away. “It’s against my better judgment, but I’ll be there.”
He returned his phone to his pocket and glanced up at the bright array of stars overhead. Tig was charged with protecting the community, not him. He’d speak to Tig about her plans for the envoy. Why should he waste a month of his time spying on Dr. Patel? Not when the envoy sparked such unwanted feelings in him.
“She’s not for you,” he grumbled, and rolled his shoulders, trying to release the anger he felt.
He walked to his car and thought of phoning his friend-with-benefits to cancel. When he was in this kind of mood, it was best to be alone. He put the car into gear and sped to the main road. Maybe he should do more than cancel their date. It was time to end the relationship. Yacov was right, but for the wrong reason.
His phone call to her didn’t take two minutes. Breaking off the relationship was easier than he envisioned. His friend-with-benefits sounded unsurprised, like she had been waiting for him to end their arrangement before this.
Sadness settled on his shoulders, the weight of his past sins causing him to slump in his seat. He didn’t deserve pleasure and he certainly didn’t deserve happiness. Given his
past, he deserved the torture of being alone forever.
Chapter 15
Rolf’s corral—the next night
The scent of fresh horse manure hung heavy in the cool night air. Cerissa walked toward the corral where Rolf and Zeke were saddling the horses. She didn’t need the floodlights to see them, not with a full moon illuminating the darkness. She glanced up and found the Big Dipper, tracked the edge of its cup to the North Star. The guiding light twinkled brightly in the clear sky. What would it be like to follow it?
Her boot snagged on a rock and she stumbled. Earth to Cerissa. Eyes forward.
She looked around to see if anyone noticed her klutziness. The corral surrounded the front half of Rolf’s property where the main road and a dirt trail intersected. Chief Anderson and Captain Johnson stood on the other side of the corral, heads turned away from her, along with Blanche, who was talking nonstop to Council Member Frédéric. His long mustache twisted out at the ends, reminding Cerissa of Salvador Dali at his craziest. Karen was nearest, but facing away.
She stepped up onto the split-rail fence next to Karen. Schmoozing Rolf’s girlfriend could be her ticket to winning Rolf’s support. The auburn-haired woman looked to be around twenty-eight years old, but looks weren’t reliable in Sierra Escondida, since ingesting vampire blood slowed the aging process. And the dossiers Leopold gave her didn’t include information about any mortal mate.
If mortals weren’t part of the Hill’s power structure, did she really want to live here and be a second-class citizen? She would enjoy more freedom here than at home, but was it worth it?
“Hey, Cerissa,” Karen said. “I like your emerald shirt. Good choice.”
“Thanks.” The early spring night was warm enough, so she hadn’t worn a jacket. Karen was similarly dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, except she wore a gun holster on her hip. “Why the gun?”
“Betsy? She’s just a precaution. It’s too cold now for rattlesnakes, but mountain lions and coyotes live up here. We sometimes run into them on rides.”
Cerissa tucked her long braid under her arm so she wouldn’t accidentally sit on it, and pushed herself up onto the top rail of the fence, turning to face Karen. Mid-turn she spotted Henry park a Dodge Viper at the curb and get out. She wasn’t surprised he drove a fast muscle car. It went with his personality.
Then it occurred to her—he owned a vehicle named after a fanged reptile. Was it an inside joke?
No, he didn’t strike her as the type who had a sense of humor over the car he owned.
He walked toward the corral, his obsidian-black ponytail pulled back tight, revealing a slight widow’s peak. Where his straight nose might have hooked, it instead narrowed, widening at the tip. Not hawkish like Aztec or Mayan noses. She suspected ancestors from Spain and a good childhood diet—bought by Spanish wealth—accounted for his height, but indigenous genes from Mexico gave him his facial features and dark skin.
I hope he’s in a better mood tonight.
He strode to the other side of the corral where the police chief stood. He moved with a sense of confidence and authority, like he knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. She cocked her head and watched him. His confidence intrigued her.
She nudged Karen and motioned in his direction.
“Oh shit,” Karen said quietly.
“What’s wrong?” Cerissa whispered back. Vampire hearing could detect the movement of a field mouse at fifty feet. If she wanted to speak privately, she had to lower her voice.
“I try to avoid Henry,” Karen said. “It’s his fault I lost my BFF.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Erin was his girlfriend. She caught him cheating on her with another vampire.”
“How did she find out?”
“Fang marks on his neck.” Karen pointed to her own unmarred neck. Cerissa didn’t want to imagine where Rolf had left his mark. “She woke up early one morning while he was sneaking back into the house. His collar was unbuttoned. Two red pinpoints were staring her in the face.”
“Couldn’t it have been, ah, a medical need?”
“You kidding? There’s a protocol for everything on the Hill. Wrists are used when a vampire donates blood. A neck bite always involves sex.”
“So what happened?”
“Erin stuck around for a month afterwards, but she couldn’t let it go. He wouldn’t tell her who it was, and she felt like everyone knew but her. She’d go to a Hill event, see a vampire, and think, Is she the one?”
“How did she know it wasn’t a guy?”
“Henry? Some on the Hill swing both ways, but conventional wisdom says Henry isn’t one of them.” Karen ran her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her eyes. “Son of a bitch let her walk out and didn’t try to stop her.”
“I’m missing something here. I can understand taking your friend’s side, but you sound, well, bitter.”
Karen glanced down, her fingers twisting the moonstone ring she wore. All the Hill mates wore at least one piece of jewelry made of moonstone—the community’s stone, a symbol of the mortal’s tie to a Hill vampire.
“They won’t let an unmated mortal stay on the Hill.” Karen’s fingers twisted the ring again. “Once they stop taking our blood, they’re petrified the loyalty bond will wear off and we’ll tell someone what they are.” Karen’s face looked hard in the harsh floodlights. “They made her leave.”
“So what? Can’t you still go visit her?”
“She doesn’t remember me. It’s one of the powers they retain from the old days when they used to hunt. Boom. Just like that, they wiped her mind of them, and Erin no longer knew who I was. Her memory of me was too entwined with Henry and Rolf and what they are. So they took her away from me.”
But why? Sure, if he’d wiped Erin’s memory of seeing the bite, he wouldn’t be able to wipe her mind later if she left him. The trick only worked once. So why doesn’t Henry just tell her who bit him? What is he hiding?
Karen sighed. “You’d think after a year I’d be over it, but I really liked her.”
“Could it have been his maker?”
“Anne-Louise?” Karen said with a laugh, looking completely incredulous. “Nah, it would keep him under her thumb, and he’s too old; he’d never allow that. Besides, she lives in New York.”
“Does Leopold know her?”
“He must. She lives in the Collective’s building.”
Maybe Leopold could enlist Anne-Louise’s support. Anne-Louise might be able to persuade Henry to back her project. “Is Henry on good terms with her?” Cerissa asked, mentally crossing her fingers.
“Not from what I heard,” Karen said, smirking. “Their relationship is pretty messed up. Rolf told me anytime Henry and the countess get together they fight like cats and dogs. Besides, Anne-Louise prefers mortals; she doesn’t want Henry around.” Karen reached into her pocket and took out a hair scrunchy, then gathered up her hair, which was just long enough to pull into a ponytail. “Besides, he still resents it that she turned him.”
“What gave you that idea?” Cerissa asked, watching Henry. He had left the side of the corral Rolf was on and was walking in their direction.
“It’s how she did it. She was pretending to work as a prostitute—he expected a one-night stand and ended up with a lifetime commitment.” Karen snickered. “Ask me later. He’s almost in earshot.”
Damn. Why can’t I catch a break? She’d have to figure out another way to persuade him. Her gaze traveled from his shiny boots, up along his straight-legged jeans, and stopped at his belt buckle. No, not that way.
She swung off the rail and brushed her hands against her jeans to remove the gritty residue of splintered wood. In a few short steps, he joined them.
“Good evening, Karen,” he said, with a slight incline of his head.
“Good evening, Henry,” Karen replied, a formal chill in her voice.
Henry turned to Cerissa. “We were not properly introduced before Zeke pulled you away. I am En
rique Bautista Vasquez. My friends call me by the English version of my name, Henry.”
“I’m Dr. Cerissa Patel,” she said, offering her hand to shake. “I’m sorry about what happened at the casino. I hope we’ll have an opportunity to discuss Leopold’s project this time.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he bent over and kissed it. A pleasant shiver went up her arm at the touch of his lips, and her root chakra woke up.
Stop that, she told her body.
He looked up at her, his lips still hovering above her knuckles.
Confidence—I can do this. She gave a nod in his direction. “I’m pleased to meet you, Señor Bautista,” she responded in Spanish.
He rose up, his eyes meeting hers again, releasing her hand. “I’m impressed,” he said in Spanish. “You are familiar with the naming traditions of Mexico?”
She rubbed the spot he’d kissed, forcing her mind to focus and translate his question. His dialect was different from the way Spanish was spoken in Mexico today. He pronounced the words closer to the way the original Spaniards spoke, substituting a J sound for the double L, probably the way he’d learned to speak the language as a child.
“Not that impressive,” she answered in Spanish, trying to match his dialect. “For a gentleman from Veracruz, his surname always follows his first name. And your mother’s family was Vasquez?”
“Indeed, but you have the advantage on me. Where are you from?”
She tilted her head and smiled. “An enchanting place, far from here.”
“You make it sound so mysterious,” he said, smiling back at her—a smile telling her if she wanted to play mouse, he’d play cat.
She had no intention of being chased by him. “I was born in Surat, which is on the Tapi river in India, near the Arabian Sea, but I spent most of my childhood in Europe and South America. My family traveled a lot.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Surat? Another walled city.”
“Now it’s my turn to be impressed.”
“Not really. As a child, I enjoyed reading stories about faraway places. Walling a city was not uncommon in the era I was born, a way to protect against invaders.”