Kiss Me When the Sun Goes Down

by Lisa Olsen

  As much as he would’ve liked the company, from the way her blinks got longer and longer, he could tell she was exhausted. “No, why don’t you go on home and get some rest? There’s no reason for us both to stay up so late.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure, I’m sure. We could get you a room here for the night if you’re too tired to drive back to the house.”

  “No thanks. I hate sleeping in hotels if I can help it.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’m always afraid the cleaning lady’s going to come in and mistake me for a corpse, and then I’ll end up in the morgue again.”

  “Why don’t you take my car back and I’ll call you as soon as I know anything?”

  “Won’t you need it?”

  “I can manage,” he shrugged, being deliberately vague as to where he’d get another.

  “Okay then,” she replied, stifling a yawn behind her hand that had him swallowing back a yawn of his own. “Good luck, I’ll see you later. And call me.”

  “I will,” he promised, not letting her leave without a goodnight kiss. He had a couple of hours to kill, but knew from experience, it was better to stay up then seek his bed and try to wake after sunrise.

  Bishop spent some time making the rounds, checking in with the local vampire scene. Even though it’d been a while since he’d patrolled the streets of San Jose, not much had changed. Everywhere he went, he was still met with the same fear and discomfort that being in the Order commanded.

  It didn’t bother him, he was used to it. In fact, he’d spent centuries cultivating that exact response from the average vamp on the street. But for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to stroll into a vampire bar and not have all eyes on him. What would it be like to share a quiet drink and shoot the breeze without it feeling like an interrogation?

  Bishop shouldered those thoughts aside. Like it or not, this was his life, and most of the time, he liked it. One thing he didn’t like though, was the sting of the sun, even with the cloud cover, and he slipped on his sunglasses, glad that the leather jacket he wore offered him decent protection from the harmful rays. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he started through the circuit of cab companies again, not wasting much time on the niceties, trusting his compulsion to get the information he needed.

  On the third stop, he struck paydirt, finding a record of a pick up on the night in question, around the time Carys’ flight got in. On his way out to the parking lot, he came upon Carter coming up the stairs, hoodie pulled up and sunglasses on.

  “I guess we had the same thought,” the hunter said, slowing his steps. “Any luck?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got one.” Bishop waved a slip of paper in the air. “They picked up a fare from the jetway that night and dropped off at the Embassy Suites on Calaveras. The times add up. I think it’s the break we’ve been looking for.”

  “Great, I’ll drive.” Carter snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and Bishop snatched it right back.

  “Wait. Before we go there, let’s make sure it’s her. That’s the cabbie’s name and address, let’s go talk to him.”

  “Fine. Like I said, I’ll drive.”

  They rode in silence, and Bishop didn’t bother to ask Carter if he knew how to find the address, trusting him to figure it out. The younger vampire shifted higher in his seat, pulling the sun visor down as low as it could go as he sat in rush hour traffic, the sun starting to peek through the clouds. Even with the sunglasses, his eyes streamed from the glare, but his hands were steady, without the telltale jitter from stims.

  “You okay?” Bishop asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It’s not often I see someone of your age able to stay up so late.”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve had to pull an all-nighter to get the job done. I’ll be fine, you worry about yourself.”

  “Fine,” Bishop breathed, perfectly content to sit in silence.

  The freeway at a standstill, even the surface streets were clogged with traffic, and they didn’t make much progress. “You don’t like me much, do you?” Carter said after a while, his natural inclination toward chatter kicking in as boredom set in.

  “Let me ask you a question before I answer that.”

  “Shoot, I’m an open book.”

  “You have a thing for her, don’t you?”

  Instead of the denial Bishop expected, Carter snorted and then cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, Dumbo, I’m not poaching on your territory.”

  “But you do have feelings for her that cross the boundaries of friendship.”

  Carter shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

  Bishop liked the fact that he was up front about it when confronted, but had to make sure the guy fully grasped where things stood. “She told me she loves you like a brother.”

  “Which in my family doesn’t exactly exclude a little something on the side,” he quipped. “But like I said, you don’t have to worry. I’m not that guy.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I find it hard to accept that.”

  “Accept it or don’t, makes no difference to me,” Carter shrugged. “I have no illusions where Anja is concerned.”

  “I’m sorry.” As much as Carter grated on his nerves sometimes, he knew what it was like to see Anja in love with someone else, and it wasn’t fun.

  “It’s fine. Even if she did dig me, I’m not the relationship type.”

  “I didn’t used to think I was either. But Anja, she’s kind of hard to resist.” It killed him to think of all the time he’d wasted trying. At least they had a real shot at happiness now, if only they could get past the whole Carys issue. “Then I have no problem with you.”

  “And I have no problem with you, as long as Anja’s happy,” Carter replied, and Bishop smiled in relief.

  “Then we understand each other.”

  “If you try to hug me I’ll shoot you.”

  Bishop snorted at that. “I’d rather shoot myself than hug you.”

  “See, we have all sorts of things in common,” Carter grinned. “And Anja thought we’d never have a bonding moment.”

  Bond or not, conversation fell by the wayside as Carter decided to take the bull by the horns and get creative with the traffic. His car weaved in and out of the lanes, taking ridiculous chances and illegal advantage of the bike path sometimes. It did the trick though, and they finally arrived at the apartment complex.

  The clouds rolled back in, providing them with a welcome spot of cover as they jogged from the parking lot to the cabbie’s apartment. It took a few bangs on the door to bring Davit, the Armenian driver, to answer it. Bishop’s compulsion quickly overrode the slight man’s irritation, and he became eager to help.

  “Yes, I remember her. Hair like spun gold, a real sweetheart. She didn’t have any American money on her, but her boyfriend had the cash.”

  “Boyfriend?” Bishop’s brows rose as he traded a look with Carter. “Can you describe him?”

  “Sure. Brown hair, clean shaven, his suit looked like it cost more than I make in a week. Handsome enough, if you like the type. Which I don’t. A Brit, like her.”

  That was less than useful information. That description could be anybody, human or vampire. “Did she ever say his name?” Bishop pressed for more information.

  “Noooo, I don’t think so,” Davit replied after a moment’s reflection. “Say, why are you boys trying to track them down? Is he a criminal? He had that look about him like he could be dangerous.”

  Carter frowned over that. “I don’t supposed you have cameras in the cab so we could get a look at this guy, do you?”

  “Only on the front seat. Ain’t that a bitch? All the crazies I pick up and I’m the one on surveillance,” the driver snorted, and Bishop rose to his feet. There was nothing more to be learned from the man.

  “Thank you for your time.”

  “Sure thing, friends. You have a great day.”

  “That sounds like her alright,” Carter grinned, upbeat as they returne
d to the car. “Next stop, the Embassy Suites. What do you want to bet she’s checked in under her own name?”

  “If she was alone I wouldn’t take that bet, but I’m guessing this boyfriend of hers is cagier than that.”

  Even without using her name, it wasn’t too hard to verify that Carys had checked in on the night in question, and still held a suite on the top floor.

  “Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” Carter muttered with an ear cracking yawn as they took the elevator up. Both men un-holstered their weapons, ready for anything, despite the fact that it was daytime, and the couple should be asleep. But the room was empty, the bed undisturbed.

  A woman’s clothes lay draped around the room, in her size, but they could’ve belonged to anyone. In the bathroom, Bishop found Carys’ bracelet, the one Kursik had re-gifted to Anja, and he picked it up, turning the metal in his fingers. “She’s really here,” he murmured, any doubts squashed by the evidence in his hands.

  “Isn’t that what we’ve been saying this whole time?” Carter called out from where he was methodically checking between the mattress and the box spring for any missed clues on the man’s identity. Beyond a rumpled white button up shirt, he’d left nothing behind but a dark hair or two on the pillow.

  Bishop took off his jacket, laying it across the coffee table. “We’ll take shifts, you sleep first. I’ll wake you in four hours. Do you think you can manage that without stims?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Carter agreed readily, stretching out on the sofa. “Just give me a good smack if you have trouble waking me.”

  “With pleasure,” Bishop smirked. Finally, something to look forward to.

  As it was, he tried waking Carter with a time tested alternative to pain – a glass of cold water – which was equally as satisfying to witness. Carter returned the favor four hours later by placing Bishop’s hand in a bowl of warm water.

  All games aside, evening came without any appearance of Carys or her mystery date.

  “No sign of her yet?” Carter yawned as he sat up and immediately started doing squats.

  “Nope.”

  “You’d better give Anja a call with an update. She’ll be worried if she wakes up and there’s no word from you.”

  “Right,” Bishop nodded, digging out his phone. What he really needed was to feed, but Anja’s peace of mind was more important than that. Her phone rang four times, and he started to worry that it’d go to voicemail, when she picked up.

  “Bishop?”

  “Hey, Anja. Listen, we tracked her down to her hotel, but she’s not here at the moment.”

  “I know,” she replied, her voice taut with suppressed emotion. “That’s because she’s here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I stared at Carys through the window, not sure what to make of her sudden appearance on my back porch. When I’d woken to find no message from Bishop or Carter, I assumed they hadn’t caught up with her yet. I had no idea it was because she’d decided to bring the battle to me. We stared at each other through the window, and she had the audacity to put her hands on her hips, toes tapping impatiently when I didn’t let her in right away.

  “Hurry up, okay?” I said into the phone. “I’ll see if I can stall her.”

  “Anja, no wait…” Bishop started to say, but I hung up before he could argue. There wasn’t time.

  This time I did the smart thing and ran down to get my gun before I opened the door. Okay, so the smarter thing might’ve been to not answer the door at all, but it was too late to pretend I wasn’t at home. Regular bullets weren’t going to slow her down much, providing I even hit her in the first place, but I felt better with the gun in my hand as I approached the rear door again.

  “Hello, Carys,” I said, pulling the door open.

  “Finally,” she huffed, her irritation turning to a squeak of surprise when she ran face first into the protective barrier. “What’s this? Does a human own this home?”

  “No, Jakob bought it for me,” I admitted. “But I had a friend add a little extra mojo to keep out the riff raff. Glad to see it’s still working.” I felt cockier with the magic between us, though mostly I wanted to slam my fist into her face and make her pay for what she’d done to my family.

  Carys rubbed at her nose and then patted her hair as if concerned it might’ve been mussed. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “That wouldn’t be my first thought, no.”

  “But I came here to help you.”

  “That’s got to be the funniest thing I’ve heard since Affleck took up the bat cape. You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you?”

  “I realize we haven’t always been the best of friends.”

  “I’m not stupid, Carys. I know it was you. I know what you did.”

  “No, it wasn’t, not exactly,” she insisted, her hands coming up defensively. “I suppose I am indirectly responsible, but that’s why I’m here, don’t you see?”

  I leveled the gun at her chest. “All I see is you on my porch, providing a perfect target. Could you maybe back up a smidge? I’d hate to get blood on the hardwood floors. It’s such a pain to clean.”

  “You’re not making this very easy,” she pouted.

  “Is there any reason why I should?”

  “I am trying to do the right thing. The least you can do is afford me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re not going to stand there and demand courtesy after everything you’ve put me through, are you?” Why hadn’t I put a bullet in her brain already? Because if Bishop and Carter were still in San Jose, it was a good two hours until they’d get there. I’d run out of bullets if I started shooting her now.

  “You’re upset, I understand that.”

  “How big of you,” I scowled, my finger trigger growing itchier by the second. “And you thought you showing up here would make things better, why?”

  “I wanted to explain…”

  “Explain how you killed Lee and Gunnar? How you tried to kill my sister and my parents?”

  “No, I told you, that wasn’t me.” Her bright curls danced as she shook her head. “Rather, it wasn’t my idea, not specifically. It was Volkov.”

  “Volkov?” The leader of the Order who’d tortured Bishop, Rob, and I for hours? How the heck was he mixed up in it all? “The last time I saw Volkov he was stabbed through the heart with an iron poker in the dungeon beneath…” And that’s when it hit me. “Son of a biscuit… You let him out, didn’t you?”

  “When I heard of his defeat at your hands, I thought we might share a common enemy, but his need for revenge far outstripped mine. I wanted you to suffer, but not like this.”

  “You wanted me to suffer?” My temper boiled dangerously close to the breaking point, the gun shaking in my hand. “Why? Why would you come after me? I’ve never done a single thing to you!”

  “You took everything from me!” Carys spat back, her voice rising with hysteria. “You are Jakob’s favored childe now. You stole Ulrik from me.”

  “I did not! I can’t help it if Jakob loves me, or Bishop, for that matter. I didn’t come after him once the two of you split.”

  “Do you deny that you’re together now?”

  I might as well have been speaking Chinese. She was completely missing the point. “No, and I’m not apologizing for it either. This world doesn’t revolve around you, Carys. Maybe it’s time you realized that. It doesn’t give you the right to try to destroy my life. Maybe try being nicer to people and see if that gives you more admirers.”

  “Oh yes, you’re the queen of nice, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “Wherever I go, I hear them singing your praises. One would think you’ve achieved sainthood. No one even cares what I suffered at Lodinn’s hand. All they can talk about is how you brought about his fall. I can not speak of my own glorious triumphs without having yours thrown in my face again and again.”

  “So you decided to kil
l everything I love, including Bishop? You are seriously screwed up, lady.”

  “No, no, of course not. You must know I’d never sanction any action that could destroy Ul… Bishop,” she corrected herself. “At first I sought merely to embarrass you. I thought if I delivered a public humiliation they would stop revering you so, but it did no good.”

  “Then you were behind the tainted blood thing at New Year’s.” That made sense, it sounded like exactly the petty sort of mischief she’d get up to. “Bakareh’s not going to be happy when he hears about what you did to his staff. What did you do to them, anyway? Is Amunet alright?”

  “She’s perfectly fine.”

  “Stuffed in the bottom of your closet in San Jose?” I probed, and Carys frowned, offended.

  “Amunet is my friend, I wouldn’t do that to her.”

  “I seriously doubt you can understand what the word friend means,” I scoffed. “And when Bakareh didn’t immediately declare war against the West, you went home for reinforcements?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand, but I was quite despondent when I returned to Vetis, extremely so. Aubrey said something in passing that got me to thinking. I knew I didn’t stand a chance against someone who’d survived torture in the very dungeons I stood over. And that’s when I got a streak of inspiration.”

  “You thought – hey, I know someone who hates Anja even more than I do. Maybe I should invite him to the party?”

  “Something like that,” she replied with a weak smile. “Once I revived Volkov, he instantly embraced the idea of revenge, and we returned to the West.”

  And then my nightmare had begun in earnest. “So tell me, how long did it take you to go from mayhem to murder?”

  “I did not ask for your death. I knew Ulrik would never forgive such a thing.”

  “But you thought he’d be cool with killing off my family?”

  Carys’ brow twisted with distress. “I had no idea the lengths that Volkov would take. I had no idea you even had living family. To be honest, it never once occurred to me.” Something about the way she said it made me believe her, even if I didn’t want to. “I tried to stop Volkov after he came after your sister, truly I did. But he was too strong for me to compel.”