She was surprised by the roughness in his normally laid-back, no-worries voice. Surprised enough that she finally said it. “We’re running on a beach at night, running from someone, and I get shot.”
He sighed heavily. “So we simply don’t go to the beach. That’s not too hard, is it?”
She shook her head. “Remember what I said about fate. It’s a tricky thing.”
“What makes you think I don’t get shot?”
“It’s a vision of my death, not yours. You’ll escape. I know that much.”
“Lauren, I’m not going to stand by and watch you die. There has to be something we can do about this.”
“I’ve been seeing my own death since I was a little kid. It’s not exactly a surprise to me anymore.”
He was shaking his head, his brow furrowed, looking as if he’d just received some news he couldn’t accept.
She felt like scum. Lower than scum. She should not have told him. She hadn’t anticipated how awful it would feel to share the news of her death with the person who would witness it.
“I’m leaving then. If you’re supposed to die, then I have to get the hell away from you. We can’t ever see each other again.”
Lauren stared at her own hands, trying to think how to convince him that it was useless to fight this fate, that they might as well enjoy themselves until the end came. But when she looked up at him, she could see that his eyes were full of grief, that he needed to feel as though he was doing something to help her.
“I really do appreciate your concern,” she said. “But maybe the very act of your leaving would be what draws us back together and leads to my getting shot. Do you see how that could work?”
There was a sound from the entrance to the rooftop deck, and they both looked over at the same time to see Sebastian standing in the way, staring at them in complete disgust.
“What the hell are you doing?” he said so low Lauren was sure she was the only one who’d heard.
Carson, next to her, was still naked, and she could see now there was no way Sebastian was going to be okay with a naked mortal on his bed with her. She’d been stupid to take the risk of bringing Carson here.
“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” she said. “We shouldn’t have come up here.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to get some fresh air, and I didn’t think you’d mind if we came up here for a bit to escape the nightclub crowd. But then things got out of hand, and—”
She stopped when she realized she was explaining too much, and Sebastian wasn’t even looking at her. He was glaring only at Carson now, so that she wasn’t even sure her cousin had heard her.
“We’ll go,” she said.
Then he looked at her with a coldness she’d never seen before. “The mortal will not be leaving here alive.”
11
IF THE MORTAL WOULD BE the witness to Lauren’s death, then it was the mortal who had to die first. Then, Sebastian reasoned, his cousin’s vision of her death on the beach could not come true. She might never forgive him for killing her lover, but she would get to live out the full length of her life. That mattered more to him than forgiveness.
Sebastian reached into his boot and withdrew the knife from his ankle holster. “Lauren, you have to leave now,” he said coolly.
She must have caught the glint of silver metal in the firelight, because she was staring at the knife now. “No,” she said. “Sebastian, don’t.”
His cousin moved so that she was between him and Carson, but it would only take a few quick moves for him to be in position to throw the knife. He only needed one good throw, and the mortal would be as good as dead. A knife in the heart, or the side of the throat, or the eye—three easy spots to bring death. He’d been practicing knife-throwing since childhood, and he’d never met anyone who could match his skill.
“Lauren, move out of the way,” Carson said. “This is between me and your cousin.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You can’t sacrifice yourself for me. It’s not going to change anything. I’ll still die when it’s my time.”
“I’m not going to let you get killed on my behalf,” Carson said, standing up from the bed and crossing his arms in some kind of ridiculous challenge to Sebastian’s knife.
“At least your mortal lover has some courage,” Sebastian said. “Let him exercise it so he can die like a man.”
He caught Lauren’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then he realized she was digging something out of her purse. He heard the click of metal against metal.
“I’ll shoot if I have to,” she said, and he looked over to see she was aiming the same small gun at him that he’d made her take yesterday to protect herself.
“You’ve got your loyalties confused, cousin,” he said, turning his attention back to the mortal.
Carson glanced over at Lauren’s gun, apparently dumbfounded. “What the hell are you doing with that?” he said.
“Sebastian gave it to me for occasions like this,” she said quietly. And then to Sebastian, she said, “My loyalties lie with the innocent, which you are not.”
He laughed, but he didn’t think anything was funny. He thought of the way he’d spent his life defending the family, protecting every goddamn witch who had come into his life, and he felt nothing but sad that his dearest cousin would now think of taking him out over a useless mortal.
He could end it right here. He could throw the knife, and save Lauren’s life. If she killed him, then at least all the freaking pain would be gone.
“I’d rather die than leave you to the hands of The Order,” he said, “So go ahead and shoot me when I throw this. I don’t give a damn. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Her expression was cool and even, but if he knew her at all, he knew she wasn’t so sure of what to do.
“I just want to say one thing,” Carson said. “Why don’t you both save yourselves some trouble having to dispose of dead bodies. I was about to leave anyway.”
Sebastian eyed the naked man who’d just been lounging on his bed. “Yeah, looks like you were on your way right out the door.”
“I don’t want to see Lauren die any more than you do. I’ll do anything I can to keep her from coming to harm.”
Out of the blue, he felt a moment’s sympathy for the mortal. He was simply a weak, powerless man who’d fallen into Lauren’s web. It was, after all, she who should have known better than to be sleeping with a mortal. “I’m listening,” he said without lowering the knife.
“I’ll leave and never come anywhere near Lauren again. If I stay away from her, then there’s no way she can die on the beach with me, right?”
“Sebastian, you know you need to be alive to help Corinne when the uprising begins. You’re a part of that destiny. I don’t want to shoot you and hurt the clan’s chance for that freedom…but I will if I have to.”
He regarded his cousin curiously. “You care about this mortal that much?”
“I do,” she whispered.
Sebastian looked at Carson, and he felt a moment’s sympathy for Lauren, who now knew what it was like to want someone she couldn’t have. Just the way he wanted Maia, and would never have her.
He was silent as he considered the words on the tip of his tongue. Then he dropped his hand with the knife to his side. “Go,” he said to Carson. “Before I change my mind.”
The mortal eyed him suspiciously, and Lauren didn’t put away her gun. She kept it leveled at Sebastian, as Carson gathered his clothes from the floor and dressed. A minute later, he edged past Sebastian, his gaze pinning him with no small amount of hostility. He got credit, at least, for having balls, and for caring enough about Lauren to get the hell away from her.
When Carson had disappeared through the doorway, Lauren finally put away her gun.
“I’m hurt, cousin. You put a mortal above a family alliance.”
She looked at him for the first time with pure, unabashed disgust. “I don’t know you anymore
, Sebastian. I don’t know what happened to you.”
Then she followed the mortal out the door, and Sebastian stood on his rooftop deck alone, staring listlessly at the fire. After a while, he went to the edge of the bed and sank onto it. The knife slipped from his fingers onto the deck.
He didn’t know what had happened to himself, either. Somewhere along the line, he suspected that bearing the weight of the supernatural world on his shoulders had turned him into a broken man.
“DON’T GO YET,” Lauren said. “Let’s talk about this first.”
Carson turned to her, and for the first time, she realized her hands were shaking. Could she have really shot her own cousin, her blood, someone she’d loved for as long as she could remember?
She feared she could have.
“I’m causing nothing but trouble. Knives, guns, visions of death. It’s time for me to get the hell out of here and leave you alone.”
“No,” she said. “First we have to talk.”
Carson pulled a phone book out of the desk. “I need to find a rental car place, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“I’m sorry about Sebastian,” she said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for what he almost did.”
“He’s just trying to protect you,” Carson said. “I can’t blame him for that. I’d probably try to kill me, too, if I were in his shoes.”
“You men and your goddamn egos. When are you going to realize it’s not all about what you want, all the time?”
“What? You think your death will be for the greater good or something? You think I should stand by and watch it happen without trying to stop it?”
Lauren saw the anguish in his eyes and her words caught in her throat. It felt good to know he cared about her so much, so quickly. Perhaps it was only his addiction coloring his feelings, but some part of her wanted very much to believe his emotions meant something more profound.
She was a fool.
“Thank you for caring,” she said, “but I do believe my death is part of something bigger. I believe it’s the event that galvanizes my sister’s energy and begins the uprising.” This was the first time she’d articulated the greater significance hidden in her vision.
“If your sister is so powerful, why can’t she save you?”
Lauren sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling tired of having to explain the nature of fate. “I wish I could answer that, but maybe you’d just have to know Corinne.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s all power and no discipline. Sort of like a loose fire hose when she tries to make anything happen.”
“Then how is she supposed to be the leader of this big uprising?”
“She needs something that forces her to grow up and accept her destiny. She’s not mature enough. She believes it, but she also thinks it’s all a big game, and she’s simply the one who wins.”
“Can’t you just tell her the deal? That you’ll die if she doesn’t get her act straight?”
“I’ve considered that, but I know her. She’s never had any real responsibility in her life. She’s been incredibly sheltered and spoiled, and I know it’s going to take something huge to make her accept that she has to grow up.”
“Isn’t the threat of her own sister dying huge enough?”
“Maybe, but maybe not. I have to accept my vision for what it is. It’s not really my job to question it.”
“That’s bullshit,” he said, slamming his hand against the phone book. “I’m leaving, and I don’t want you to ever come near me again. Do you understand?”
Lauren shook her head. “You know, if you go back to your old life, the men who were chasing me might find you.”
“I guess I’ll have to take that risk. I’m not going to give them any information about you, I promise.”
“They have awful ways of getting information, and they’ll simply kill you if you don’t cooperate.”
“Then I’ll die. I’d much rather do that than stand by on some goddamn beach and watch you die.”
“Please, Carson, don’t do this.”
“Those guys are after you, not me. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“If you leave, you’ll be putting my life in as much danger as you would if you stayed here.”
“Your knife-wielding cousin up there isn’t going to go for me sticking around here.”
She said nothing, because he was right. Most likely, the witch hunters had gotten tired of trying to track down any leads for her in San Francisco. She was being overly paranoid. Probably enough time had passed now that he would be safe to return to the city.
“You can take Macy’s car back to her,” she said, and her heart sank as she accepted the inevitable.
12
CARSON HAD BEEN ABLE to cancel his credit cards after his wallet was stolen, but now he had only five hundred dollars he’d borrowed from Lauren.
About halfway to San Francisco, he started feeling the symptoms of withdrawal in a big way. His hands shook, his vision went blurry, and he had a craving so deep and intense it was all he could do to keep from turning the car around and driving straight back to L.A., straight back to Lauren.
She hadn’t been kidding about the addiction thing.
After their time in Vegas, he hadn’t felt this shitty. Yes, he’d experienced some physical side effects of being apart from her—sleepless nights, intense craving, uncontrolled fantasies—but he’d channeled some of that reaction into his obsession over finding her again.
Now, however, he knew it was over. He’d do everything in his power to stay away from her. So not only were his physical reactions more intense because he’d spent more time with her, but also his emotions were suffering from what he suspected, if he examined it closely, was a broken heart.
He was a little surprised he could still drive the car without wrecking it, given his out-of-control body and mind. Sex had most definitely dumbed him down, as Lauren’s study had proven it would.
He thought of his lost wallet, of the risk he’d taken in going out on the street, of how sluggish and stupid he felt right now. He really was acting dumber than usual, and it had to be a side effect of all the sex they’d been having.
He couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. He only hoped he hadn’t lost so much IQ that he was making mistakes he wasn’t even aware of.
He drove north on I-5 and tried to remember why he was leaving. He had to stay away from Lauren to save her life. That alone was worth any amount of pain, and he could endure this physical distress if he knew he was preventing her vision from coming to fruition.
The premonition couldn’t come true if he wasn’t with her. He just had to remember that.
When these awful feelings intensified, and he was tempted to go running back into her arms, he had to remember that he was saving Lauren’s life every day he didn’t see her again. It seemed a cruel twist of fate, but maybe it was all for the best after all.
Maybe his parents had been right all those years ago in claiming people of different races were set up to face too many problems as a couple. He and Lauren had certainly proven their point.
But that thought only made him furious. No, his parents were asses.
And someday, somehow, he’d find a way to help Lauren aside from staying away from her. As his hands shook, and he struggled to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead, he promised himself he would find a way to protect her if it was the last thing he did.
CARSON POWERED UP the computer on his desk and tried to work up some kind of enthusiastic feeling for being back at work. A look at his e-mail told him he had 1568 new messages waiting for him, and a glance at his intray told him he had enough work backed up now to keep him busy for, oh, say, the next year. So much for Joey Brennan filling in as Creative Director during the past week.
He downed a long drink of his espresso—his second—and set the cup down as he observed his own shaking hands. He was still experiencing the withdrawal symptoms and he was
sleeping like shit. His craving for Lauren was so intense he couldn’t even imagine how he’d managed to drive away from her.
But he was feeling better than the day before.
He held on to that.
There should have been some kind of satisfaction in being back in his normal life, but Carson felt only blah. He now saw the pointlessness that he’d suspected while in L.A.—his empty apartment, his voice mail full of messages from people he didn’t really care about hearing from, his goddamn job.
Carson realized, upon setting foot back in the Bronson and Wade offices, that he absolutely, without-a-doubt, hated his job.
Through his twenties he’d kidded himself with the notion that he was on the fast track, that he had a killer job in a desirable profession and that was all that mattered. He was being creatively challenged, and how many people ever got to say that about their work?
The advertising world had been a perfect setting for letting him fool himself into believing what the rest of the world said about him—that he was a party boy, a spoiled brat, a good-time guy just out for the next thrill and the next hot babe.
Carson, he was now realizing, had ironically fallen for his own spin. He was an ad man. He was supposed to know better than to fall for the slick package, the surface message, or even the subliminal one.
But he had. And now, why was he so surprised to discover the urge to run away from the whole gig, join the Peace Corps, or maybe expatriate to Bali to buy a nice little hut on the beach? He’d forgotten who he even was.
He opened a message from his boss about a major client who wasn’t happy with the direction of their campaign, and his eyes glazed over. He didn’t give a damn.
Instead of replying, he closed the message, picked up the phone, and dialed Griffin.
A few rings later, Griffin answered with a, “Hey, man, you’re alive. It’s about time you called me.”
“Sorry, it’s been a crazy week, to say the least. I’ll explain it all later, or at least I’ll try,” he lied, not sure what he could really even say about Lauren, L.A. or witches without betraying Lauren’s trust. At the very least he knew he would never reveal her true identity. He’d have to make up a good tall tale to explain his absence and Lauren’s weird behavior the night they’d gone to her apartment—and why the apartment was ransacked for that matter.
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