I knew he heard me but he didn’t respond, so I repeated my question.
“He’s coming,” he informed me, and I knew whoever it was, was in the house and Landon had heard him. Supernaturals without preternatural hearing made my life simpler. He might have been on the estate for all I knew or outside parking his car.
Or stepping into the room, as he was now doing.
Flawless, warm, deep-umber skin; striking angled features; full supple lips, and lashes that made me envious. I could achieve that look with maybe ten coats of mascara and definitely some lash extensions.
“Dallas,” I greeted and his faint smile widened.
“You remember me?” His asphalt-black eyes sparked. Was he kidding me? No one met him and forgot. One, his name wasn’t something one would soon forget, and two, his appearance was memorable.
Dallas moved farther into the room, reminding me of the request I made the night I met him, which was to turn off the vampire charm. For some, it was as fluid and natural as water. With others, you could tell it was honed from years of practice, and then there were vampires like Dallas who I suspected were charming, charismatic, and alluring before becoming a vampire and only enhanced by it. A sincere sweet smile lingered and brightened his midnight eyes.
“You know each other?” Landon asked, a cold undercurrent to his tone. Landon didn’t care about me; he probably didn’t even find me attractive. I’d seen the people who kept his company and captured his interest, and I didn’t compare. Now I’d become a conquest and that was the worst. First Grayson and now he assumed I’d been with Dallas. I needed to nip it in the bud.
“I met him at a club.” I flashed Dallas a grin. “He found someone far more interesting than me.” I gave Dallas a wink.
A roguish smile curled his lips. He’d captured the attention of a Grup who initially had her eyes set on me. Those were the worst. Drawn to me by the prospect of a dangerous night, it was Dallas who was able to deliver it for her. Grups were drawn to vampires more than anyone else, I guess for the same reason I had been. They were exciting and exhilarating. A vampire feeding from you could take you to the brink of death and snatch you right back. Sex with them was just as intoxicating and reckless as letting them feed from you, and if you didn’t give them any boundaries, they weren’t going to offer any. And if that was what you were looking for, they didn’t disappoint.
“If I’m not mistaken, you were more interested in my friend Kieran than me.”
That wasn’t true. I was interested in his friend’s magic and the third person in the trio, whose chaotic, rhythmless dancing had amused me. Thinking about it still brought a smile to my lips.
Landon’s brow still rose, his attention moving from Dallas to me. Everything always looked appealing when it wasn’t in his possession. The grass was always greener for him.
He was quickly becoming my least favorite person.
“Dallas, how did you find out about the Lunar Marked having possession of Amber Crocus?” I asked.
“It was discovered by a friend of mine, a loner witch. She showed me a piece.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small plastic baggie with pieces of plant in it.
Landon’s face tensed. Mine did, too. They didn’t just have the dangerous vampire-killing plant but were being very careless with it. How many other people had pieces?
“She just found it?”
He shook his head. “They found her. Hired her as a consultant. She’s a horticulturist, with expertise in herbs and mystical plants.” He shrugged. “Their plants were starting to die and they needed help.”
“They are very careless with such a dangerous plant.” Landon’s voice was tight.
“They searched her prior to her leaving.”
I wondered why she was a loner witch. There weren’t many. Most were witches who participated in dark magic and got kicked out of their coven. The few who were loners by choice were a conundrum. Witches and mages were apolitical and didn’t have a lot of rules. The rules they did have seemed to be: Don’t play with demons, stay away from the dark arts, share with the coven or consortium, and don’t be an ass. I wasn’t sure what would discourage a person from being part of a coven or consortium.
“I had no idea what it was, but she overheard them mentioning vampires and thought it prudent to bring it to my attention.” He examined it again. “I didn’t know what it was.”
The lack of knowledge embarrassed him. His eyes dropped from mine to the floor, lifting periodically to make furtive glances in Landon’s direction.
“You’re still young, and it hasn’t been around for years. My wish for you was that you and the others your age would never know what it’s like to be controlled by a necromancer and to see someone die from Amber Crocus,” Landon said. He sounded so earnest in his desire and his commitment to preventing it that he earned a removal from my dislike list.
“We are vampires. Where there aren’t gods, we offer a pleasing alternative. Someone holding power over us in any form can’t be accepted or tolerated.”
Well, there you go. Right back on the list where you belong.
Dallas didn’t seem to share Landon’s belief or his unabashed hubris.
Landon’s face became rigid, and he directed his attention to me. “Our acquiescence into society wasn’t out of necessity but out of benevolence.” His dark gaze sharpened on me.
His hubris had elevated to such dizzying heights that the journey with him was making me a little lightheaded.
He controlled the city because the original Master of the city lived in seclusion, no longer desirous of being part of civilization. I had no idea where he was or what led to his decision. Vampires grew tired; one of the disadvantages of immortality was that it took more and more to make the tedium of life worth it. But I wondered if it was just the banality of life that the former Master grew tired of, or if it was the over-the-top, unyielding, egregious arrogance of their personalities. Carrying such an ego had to be like Atlas holding up the world.
Instead of correcting him about the pitfalls of us going to war with humans, I traveled back from Landon-ville, the city of self-aggrandization and hubris, and asked, “Who do I need to speak with?”
I needed to make sure the coven wasn’t sharing their acquisition of the plant with others. I also needed to take them to task over the fact that they were expecting the vampires to be the coven’s retirement plan—preferably before Landon decided to take this situation into his merciless hands.
CHAPTER 7
“Fuuuuuck,” I mumbled under my breath at River, who was parked right next to my car. Dr. Sumner would think I was intentionally late to decrease our session time. Maybe today would be the day he discharged me. It was that hope that made not being able to go back to bed after my visit with Landon tolerable.
The witches had been contacted and I was just waiting to hear from them. Not only did I have to deal with blackmailing witches who were perilously close to being wiped out by the acting Master of vampires, I was debating whether or not to tell Madison.
“Ms. Jensen,” he croaked out, my name always said like a curse. He forced a smile on his face, but it looked like a grimace. “Can we chat?”
Since he’d gotten out of his car and was now blocking my way to my car door, I didn’t have a lot of options other than listening to him or figuring out a way to navigate around him. Something he wouldn’t have made easy to do.
“About what?” I breathed out in exasperation. At what point did I start to consider this police harassment? He wasn’t going to rest until he’d seen me sentenced at the Enclave.
Shoving one hand into his pocket and running the other through his salt-and-pepper hair, he was attempting to seem casual, but malicious intent dwelled in his eyes and the cruel hitch of his lips. River had a dazzling endearing smile, but he was unable to summon it for me.
“It seemed that we had a weird incident a while ago. The shifters were attacking people for no reason—first you, then they were behaving in an err
atic and unusual way at the park around the same time people reported sightings of a winged man.”
“Hmmm, and you think I’m involved?” I returned the same contrived aloofness he gave me.
“Seems a little odd that things start happening just when you seem to have acquired magic. That’s the reason you were at the magic fight, right?”
“People go there to watch.”
“Did you go there to watch?” He pushed up from the car just inches from me, his gaze homed in hard on me, as if trying to convince me he’d know if I lied.
“Have you had any more reports of shifters behaving erratically?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“No. There haven’t been any reports of the winged man, either. I guess that’s coincidence.”
I shrugged. “Possibly. Maybe you should go and investigate it further,” I suggested coolly. Or just go away.
“The winged man disappears and you acquire enough magic to participate in magic fights.” His lips dipped down into a painful-looking scowl. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Why don’t you tell me again how your magic works?”
I was done playing his games. “Perhaps you should research it, or you could leave supernatural problems to the STF.”
“They’re compromised, and at the root of it is Ms. Calloway and you. Most of the time, you’re linked to the problems, and Ms. Calloway finds a way to make them go away and tie things up in a neat little bow.” The edge of threat in his voice ripped away the few tendrils of patience I had maintained.
“If you don’t have a warrant for my arrest and you just want me for questioning, I’m going to decline.” I hip checked him away from the door and got in.
With a slow, deliberate swagger, he walked back to his car. He tossed a look over his shoulder in my direction. “It would be terrible if Ms. Calloway was no longer in her position. There’d be no one to clean up your messes. Things would get really complicated for you,” he eased out airily.
My face was a placid mask, although I was seething inside. “Possibly, but perhaps my energies have been misdirected. Sometimes I can be a real bitch, especially when I direct it solely at one person. It would be a real shame if you were that person.” The airiness of my tone matched his and held the same level of undisguised threat.
He stopped abruptly, the color draining from his face as his eyes narrowed on me.
Sometimes my reputation worked to my advantage.
It took a lot of effort to push thoughts of River out of my head. He was just an obnoxious memory by the time I walked into Dr. Sumner’s office twenty minutes late.
Really, I thought when I got a look at Dr. Sumner. His moderately obtrusive squarish round frames in various tones of brown, gold, and tan had been replaced by oversized midnight-blue rectangular ones that would make even a hipster shoot him a derisive sneer. There was a dark shadow of hair that was undoubtedly going to be a full beard.
His tweed jacket was complemented by a white, pastel-pinstriped shirt. At least Dr. Cliché refrained from the patches on the elbows this time.
Plopping into the seat, I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my flask and two shot glasses.
His brow raised at them.
I filled both glasses, downed my tequila, and filled it again. He watched, amusement glinting in his eyes.
Head cocked, I asked with a half grin, “Who hurt you?”
“I’m not sure what you are asking.”
“The glasses, the beard, and this”—I waved my hand at his outfit—“ensemble. Clearly it’s to repel. Why? What’s wrong with being a hot doc?”
I grinned as his cheeks grew rosy. My smile faltered, though, when he took the notepad off the table, placed it on his lap, and started to scribble something.
“Did you put ‘hot doc’ or ‘hot doctor’?” I teased.
“Okay.” His voice remained neutral as he looked at the shot glasses again and frowned slightly. “What do we discuss today?”
“Everything I say is protected, right?”
“Depends.”
“I want it to be.”
He nodded absently. “If you don’t plan on injuring yourself or anyone else, then my goal is to help you.”
When I hesitated, he sighed, leaning forward until I held his gaze.
“I don’t plan on hurting myself,” I offered in concession as I debated what to tell him.
“Someone else?” he speculated, keeping me under his watchful eyes.
I responded with a deep sigh of exasperation. My tension and his speculation consumed the room.
His face became earnest, his eyes warm, inviting, and sympathetic. “Erin, obviously you want to talk about it. Based on our past experiences, you have no problem canceling or rescheduling, but you didn’t. You want to talk. I’m here to listen and help you.”
I opened my mouth to speak but before I could, he added, “The full story…not the abridged version.” Responding to my frown, he said, “Nothing you say will leave this office. Okay? I give my word.”
Nodding in assent, I grabbed the shot glass and threw back the contents.
“Erin, perhaps you should put the flask and the glasses away.”
“You’re going to want it once I start talking.”
Curiosity widened his eyes before he pulled himself up taller, his interest palpable. He leaned back in the chair.
I lay back on the sofa.
“I might have to kill my mom,” I tossed out, far too nonchalantly to be discussing murder.
He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath.
“No worries, not the one who raised me. The psycho one who probably wants to do the same to me.”
“Hmmm.” He scribbled away on his pad. “Why do you think that?” Tinges of fear and intrigue tightened his voice.
“I have reason to believe that she’s no longer imprisoned. Remember the man who attacked me during therapy?”
He nodded and glanced at the changes in his office that were a result of that. The fire extinguisher that I’d used to disarm the Immortalis had a twin placed closer to Dr. Sumner’s chair, and his briefcase remained partially open, more than likely holding a concealed weapon and the fire-starting obsidian stone—which would serve as a distraction if needed—that he’d purchased after the attack.
“Those are her minions and she’ll want them back and I suspect she’ll want to make more and she can’t do that because I cheated death and me being alive makes her weaker.”
He blinked once and I told him everything as if I were talking to Cory and Madison, but it was different. There was a detachment; he wouldn’t lose sleep over this and it was relieving. Emotions broke like a dam and I showed fear, got upset, felt frustration, sat up too often because lying down made the weight intolerable. Several times I took a shot, and when I felt the burden ease, I stretched back on the sofa. By the time I finished unloading I was sitting up.
Picking up the glass I’d poured for him, he sipped some, made a face, and replaced it on the table.
“But they’re restricted from the Veil, right?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Based on everything I know, they are. But maybe she’ll find a way to get them there, or leave them here and create another army in the Veil. Or she might come here and decide to stay and wreak havoc and destroy, like she did in the Veil. I have no idea.”
His prescription-less oversized glasses came off and he massaged the bridge of his nose. Silent for a long time, he eventually asked in a soft voice, “Do you want to meet her?” The sincerity in his voice made me pause to really consider his question. I wanted to give him an honest response.
Closing my eyes, I thought about it. “Yes,” I whispered. “There’s a part of me that’s curious. I don’t know who I am and it sucks,” I admitted. “For years I struggled with my magic, thought so many things were wrong with me, lived in this state of perpetual guilt and shame, only to find out that some of it wasn’t my fault. But…” The heaviness in my chest had returned and my muscles were so tense, I fel
t rigid. There was a long stretch of silence that I was unable to end.
“Go on,” he coaxed gently.
“How can I not be like this? I’m the daughter of a goddess who murdered her own brother. A person, perhaps my father, restricted my magic and I don’t know why. Was it because I was considered a menace before I had a chance to prove myself? Why would someone do that to me?” Tears welled in my eyes and I fought hard not to let them fall. “The only reason I exist is because I’m a tool to be sacrificed so that she can be released. Perhaps it’s wistful and naïve, but I’d like to meet her so she can tell me that it’s all false. That there’s an alternative story and it’s less grim than the one I know.”
A tissue brushed against my hand and I took it from Dr. Sumner and quickly wiped away the tears that had spilled. Face flushed with embarrassment, I looked at the wall for the clock, needing to use it as a way to escape. Clearly, our time was up. The clock was gone and I slid an accusing look in Dr. Sumner’s direction.
His lips tipped into a wayward smile. “It was distracting for people,” he explained.
“People, or me?”
“You’re people, aren’t you?”
I welcomed the silence that followed. Sitting there, I watched Sumner sip from the tequila shot. He tolerated it better than I expected.
There was nothing normal about my life and definitely nothing normal about my therapy sessions.
I suspected my life had cured him of his fascination with the supernatural world. I could see it in his eyes. There was still intrigue or unsated curiosity but also fear and apprehension. Once again I had introduced him to another facet of the world, and I wasn’t sure he appreciated it. With a blink of his eyes, the expression was gone.
He attempted a congenial smile, but it was mirthless and grim, obligatory.
“I didn’t see it, but a spell was done to release her.”
Although the awkward silence continued, I didn’t have the desire to leave or end the session. This time it felt different. Safe. I didn’t have to feign indifference or be braver than I felt for fear of making others worry. Nor did I have to pretend that things weren’t as dire as they were.
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