by Pati Nagle
“I saw a guy upstairs who might be a suspect in the attack.” I showed her the picture and gave her a brief explanation. Her eyes widened.
“I saw him come in! He asked where to find books on the early Spanish colonists!”
I stared at her, pieces clicking into place inside my head. The white-haired guy was looking for the same thing Caeran had been looking for. Family?
“What did he say to you?”
“He just asked where to find the section and I gave him a map. I offered to help him with a catalog search but he said he just wanted to browse.”
“And then he left?”
She nodded. “I was glad—I didn’t like him.”
“Neither do I. You should tell the police about it.”
“All but one of them went upstairs with Dave.”
I glanced toward the door. A tiny voice inside me was fretting: You’re wasting everyone’s time, this guy might have nothing to do with the murder, what if he’s a friend of Caeran’s?
“I guess we should wait, then.”
“Well, I have to work.”
She moved slowly toward the door, looking unhappy. I sat down at the lunch table, ready to wait out whatever was happening upstairs.
“Let me know when they come back down, OK?”
She shot me a look, then nodded and left. I picked up a magazine from the messy stack in the middle of the table. It was one I’d already read, so I threw it back. I was fishing for another when someone moved into the doorway.
I jumped, then saw that it was Amanda. “You scared me!”
“There are cops outside. What’s going on?”
I showed her the picture of the white-haired guy and told her the details. “I think I’d better wait until they’re done up there, since I called it in. If you’re hungry, go ahead without me.”
“No way! I want to know what happens!”
She joined me at the table. We didn’t have long to wait, fortunately. About ten minutes later Dave was back, giving me a sour look.
“There’s nobody up there who looks like your suspect.”
“He must have slipped out, then.”
“Yeah, or he was never there.”
I held up my phone with the picture showing. Dave ignored it.
“You didn’t finish shelving.”
I gritted my teeth to keep from yelling at him. “No, I didn’t. When I see homicidal maniacs I tend to leave my work unfinished.”
“You don’t know he’s a homicidal maniac.”
“You don’t believe he exists, so why worry about it?”
Amanda flashed her eyes at me, warning me to cool it. Usually I didn’t let Dave get to me, but I was feeling stressed.
The nice Latino cop came back, looking apologetic. “He’s not on the third floor. We’ve cleared it.”
I bit my lip. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. He must have left right after I saw him.”
“We’re doing a walk-through of the other floors, but we don’t have the manpower for a thorough search.”
“I understand.”
He turned to Dave. “We’ll have people watching the entrances until you close. If he comes out, we’ll catch him.”
Dave glared at me. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks for your help, Officer… ?”
“Martinez. You’re welcome.”
“I hope I haven’t led you wrong—”
His face hardened. “We take every legitimate lead seriously. Don’t hesitate to call if you see him again.”
I smiled, grateful for the reassurance. He left, and Dave went out front to talk to Tony and Marietta. Amanda and I followed him out and continued out of the building, past a pair of campus cops flanking the front entrance.
The sun was setting, and the air was getting cool. I wished I’d brought my coat.
“Is the SUB all right with you?” I asked Amanda. “I don’t really feel like going off campus.”
“Yeah.” She nodded agreement, her brow creased. “Sure.”
We crossed the plaza to the SUB and went downstairs to the New Mexican restaurant for killer green chile burritos. Comfort food, and it helped, though I still felt pretty edgy. I kept thinking about the white-haired guy looking for Spanish colonial books. He had to be following the same lead that had brought Caeran to my station a week earlier.
Should I try to let Caeran know about him? It would mean going to the bosque, and I’d sort of promised not to. Caeran might be gone by now anyway. The thought made my chest tighten.
If he was gone, he wouldn’t care about my being in the bosque. If he was still there, he might appreciate knowing about the white-haired guy. Armed with this rationale, I decided to go the next day. I’d still have some daylight after I got off work—or maybe I’d call in sick. Let Dave worry about how to cover the check-out counter. Maybe he’d actually have to step up to a station himself.
“Homework tonight?” Amanda asked, sounding unenthusiastic.
I couldn’t picture hitting the books in my current frame of mind. “Um, I think I could use a break. Think I’ll go to bed early.”
She nodded. We refilled our sodas and headed for home. It was getting dark already, and the chill had intensified. I shivered and shifted my pack on my back.
Our dorms stood adjacent, with no more than a hundred yards between the entrances. Amanda made a halfhearted offer to walk me to mine, but our routine was to go to hers together, and then I’d hurry home. There were no hiding places in the intervening distance—a couple of bushes and a few trees that were too skinny to conceal anyone—and everything was brightly lit. I wasn’t worried, so I turned her down.
“Call me,” Amanda said at the doors to her dorm, getting out her card to swipe through the lock.
I nodded. That was part of the routine, too—I’d always call to let her know I’d reached my room safely.
“See you tomorrow.”
I watched her in, then headed for my dorm, walking briskly to fight the cold. After about twenty steps my arms broke out in goosebumps. The back of my neck prickled. I hadn’t seen or heard a thing, but my heart started hammering.
I glanced around—nothing. I walked faster, listening intently. All I heard was my own footsteps, until behind me a thud and a flash of light happened simultaneously.
I yelped and spun around. Two men were grappling on the sidewalk where I’d just passed. One had white hair.
“Oh, shit!”
I pulled out my phone and punched the redial, backing away from the fight. A flash of a brownish ponytail made my heart jump in fear.
“Caeran!”
I froze in terror, watching the near-silent battle. They were fast, and weirdly graceful even as they struggled. The way they fought was almost like a dance, or some weird martial art unlike any I’d ever seen. Another flash of light dazzled me and I staggered backward.
“Campus police.”
“T-this is Lenore Whiting. The guy—the white-haired guy—”
“Where are you?”
“In front of Zuni.”
“Get inside.”
“He’s fighting—”
“Get inside, now!”
I couldn’t agree. I couldn’t move. I stared in horror as the white-haired guy caught Caeran in a hold that couldn’t be comfortable. One of Caeran’s arms was twisted up at his side, and he looked like he was having trouble breathing.
“Lenore, are you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you inside?”
“No.”
Pepper spray! I shoved the phone in my pocket and scrabbled in my pack for the spray. Caeran was straining against the other guy’s hold, but his knees were bending.
I found the spray and set up to use it, but I didn’t want to hit Caeran, too. The two of them were still grappling, and—weirdest yet—they were starting to glow.
Caeran’s free hand shot up toward the other guy’s face. A blinding flash made me gasp and flinch away. When I looked back, Caeran and the
white-haired guy were both lying on the ground, face down.
I think I whimpered as I forced myself go toward them, pepper spray at arm’s length. My gaze stayed on the white-haired guy, though it was Caeran I was trying to get to. He moved, making me jump and let out a squeak.
Caeran pushed himself up to his knees. I kept the pepper spray pointed at the white-haired guy, though he seemed to be out cold.
“Are you all right? Oh, God—you’re bleeding!”
He blinked and put a hand to his forehead, fingers coming away bloodied. “It is nothing. Go inside.”
“Caeran—”
He looked over his shoulder, grimaced, and shot to his feet, grabbing my arm. He practically carried me to the door of my dorm.
“Go inside,” he repeated.
“Come with me. Let me fix that for you—”
“No need.”
He started to pull away but I caught his arm. “Please don’t go. Please!”
I sounded panicked, and it wasn’t because I was scared of the white-haired guy. I was afraid Caeran would disappear and I’d never see him again.
He glanced backward, frowned, then relented. “All right. Quickly.”
I shoved the pepper spray into my pack and got out my card. Swiped it through the lock and we were in. Caeran took hold of my elbow again and propelled me through the lobby like he knew his way around.
My cell phone rang. I dug it out of my pocket.
“Hello?”
“Lenore? This is campus police. Are you inside?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Stay there, and stay on the phone.”
Caeran pushed me into the elevator and punched the button for my floor. I stared at him, wondering how the hell he knew it. Maybe I was thinking too loud again.
“Tell me what you saw,” said the cop on the phone.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to make trouble for Caeran, but I’d already mentioned the fight. I decided to stick to minimal details.
“I heard a noise behind me. When I turned I saw the white-haired guy and another guy fighting.”
“Two men? Anyone else?”
“I didn’t see anyone.”
“Can you see them now?”
“No, I’m in the elevator, going up to my room.”
“Does your window look that way?”
“No, it looks east.”
“That’s OK. Tell me when you get to your room.”
The elevator doors opened. As we got out Caeran shot me a sharp glance, but said nothing. We walked down the hall to my room. I unlocked the door and we went in.
“OK, I’m in my room,” I told my phone buddy.
“Stay there until we contact you again. Do you want me to stay on the line with you?”
I looked at Caeran, who had sat on the end of my bed and dropped his face into his hands. “No, I’m all right. Thanks.”
I put the phone on the desk and dumped my pack on the floor beside it. Caeran didn’t move, except that I could see his breathing. I wanted to wrap my arms around him. Instead I went into the bathroom and fetched a damp washcloth and my box of bandages.
Now that the crisis was over, I noticed that Caeran’s hair wasn’t in a ponytail; it was braided in a queue that hung halfway down his back. He didn’t have his pack, though he was wearing a jacket of the same soft buckskin.
I knelt by the bed and gently pulled his hand away from his bloodied forehead. He resisted a little, then gave in and held still while I dabbed at his cut.
Except I couldn’t find the cut. I gently wiped the blood away, and all there was beneath it was a fresh, pink scar. I stared at it for a moment, unable to understand, then moved on to wipe the blood from his hand.
His fingers curled around mine, stopping me. I looked up into his eyes—those eyes unlike any others I’d seen.
“This is why I cannot be with you, Len.” His voice was rough and low. “I am not human.”
I laughed in surprise, so suddenly I hiccuped. “Oh—what are you, an alien?”
He shook his head slowly, no humor in his face. “My people have lived here since before yours evolved.”
My heart gave a painful squeeze. “Your … people?”
“The ælven.”
“Excuse me? Did you just say you were an elf?”
He frowned, letting go of my hand to make an impatient gesture. “’Elf’ is a corruption—laden with misconceptions. We are ælven. We are immortal.”
= 7 =
I stared at him. He was talking about the stuff of legends. It made sense in a weird way—or rather, it made a lot of other things make sense. The mind reading. The uncanny grace and beauty.
Madera’s handmade furniture. If you’re immortal, you’ve got plenty of time.
I swallowed. “Your family, too? Madera?”
“Yes.”
I was having trouble breathing. There didn’t seem to be enough room in my lungs for more than short little gasps. I pointed toward the front of the building.
“What about him?”
Caeran leaned back a little, his gaze sliding toward where I pointed. “He is of our kind, but different. He suffers a disease—”
“Other than psychopathy?” I was getting giddy.
“—a disease that interferes with his digestion. The only food that will sustain him is blood. Human blood, or ælven.”
“A vampire?”
“The source of those myths, yes. But many of the myths are wrong.”
I stared, open-mouthed, out of questions. My mind was quietly exploding.
Caeran caught my hand again. “I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble.”
“No,” I whispered, still reeling.
“I fear I may have—”
“Madera!”
Caeran looked startled. “What?”
“That guy—the vampire—he was in the library today. He was looking at the Spanish colonial section! He was looking for Madera, wasn’t he?”
Caeran’s cheeks paled. “Possibly.”
I grabbed my phone from the desk and held it out to him. “You’ve got to warn him.”
His brows drew together. “But the police will have found the alben—the vampire—by now.”
“You’re saying he can’t get away from them?”
“Not easily, as I left him unconscious.” Caeran’s wry tone tugged oddly at my heart. I loved his humor—rare as it was—even though this wasn’t the time for raptures.
“You used that thing on him. The flash of light thing, same as Mirali did to me.”
“Yes. The alben have less skill with it.”
The phone in my hand rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I answered it.
“Lenore Whiting.”
“Miss Whiting, this is Officer Gordon from campus police. We responded to your call about a suspicious person.”
“Yes. Did you find him?”
“No. We found a small amount of blood on the sidewalk.”
I stared at Caeran. From his expression he had either heard Officer Gordon or he had read my thoughts.
“Out in front of Zuni? That’s where he was fighting.”
“Yes. We’re still looking for him, but you should stay inside, all right? Don’t leave the dorm.”
“Right. Thanks.”
I hung up, then held the phone out to Caeran again. “Better call.”
“I do not know the number.”
“I programmed it in. Just in case. It’s under ‘M.’”
He gave me a pained look, then took the phone. I got up and went back to the bathroom to give him some privacy. Rinsed out the wash cloth, put away the bandages. Tried to get a grip on what was happening—what I was learning. If I could believe it.
I splashed some water on my face, then rubbed it hard with my towel, making sure I was awake and not in the middle of some fantastic dream. When I looked in the mirror my skin was red, my eyes stressed. I ran a brush through my hair, took a deep breath, and went back out.
Caeran was
talking rapidly, quietly, into the phone in the strange fluid language that must be their own. Ælven language. I fought down an urge to giggle. There was nothing funny about our situation. There was a killer—a freaking vampire—loose on campus.
And if it hadn’t been for Caeran, I’d have been dinner.
He ended his call and handed me back the phone. I put it on the desk and sat next to him on the bed.
“Um, thank you for saving my life.”
He turned his head and a small smile touched his lips. “I had no choice. I could not let you be harmed.”
Well, that made me feel good. “How did you know, though?”
He glanced down at his hands. “I heard about the first attack, and could not rest until I knew it had not been you. I came here, to the campus, and learned that you were safe, but I also found signs that the attacker was alben. Since then I have been watching over you.”
“What? Since when?”
“Monday evening.”
Caeran had been tailing me for three days, and I’d never noticed? But then, he was an ælven—my brain still had trouble with the word—and he had magical powers.
“What about your family? Will the vam—the—”
“Alben.”
“Alben. Will he bother them?”
“The others have left. They have gone … to join Madera.”
His gaze grew stern, as if he was cautioning me.
I drew a sharp breath. “Can the alben read minds?”
Caeran nodded, and my stomach sank. I tried to remember if I had thought about Madera’s home in the library that afternoon. I didn’t think I had, and I quickly turned my thoughts away from it now.
“H-how close does he have to be?”
“Fairly close.”
“In the same room?”
“Not necessarily.”
I groaned. After all my efforts to be sneaky taking his picture, the alben had probably known the minute I did it. No wonder he wanted to kill me.
“He will not harm you,” Caeran said softly.
“Thanks, but I can’t expect you to devote your entire life to protecting me.”
He laughed. “That should not be necessary.”
“Don’t fight him again, please. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“I will try to avoid injury, but I cannot promise not to fight him. He will continue hunting until he is stopped.”