Against the Dawn

by amanda bonilla

  Xander snorted. “Weird is an understatement.”

  I gave a nervous laugh. “I guess you’re right. So, what’s going on? Asher said there’s been a lot of activity around here lately? Care to fill me in?”

  Xander’s eyes sparked with curiosity. “You’ve been back to your apartment?”

  “Yeah, and about that, what’s up with the remodel? I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re so certain I’m responsible?”

  I quirked a brow.

  “Fine.” He sighed. “I didn’t want you to be surrounded by…unpleasant memories when you returned home. I thought that a change of scenery would make the transition easier.”

  Well, at least his heart was in the right place. “I’ll reimburse you for the work.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Xander.” I paused. I was too damned exhausted to even argue right now. “I know it wasn’t cheap.”

  “It is a gift,” he said simply. “I will not accept reimbursement.”

  I filled my lungs with air, held it, and let it all rush out at once. “Fine. Now, what’s going on?”

  With a dismissive wave of his hand, Xander said, “Politics. I should have considered my choice of regent more carefully. Apparently he fears for the kingdom. He wants me to return home.”

  “You should return home, Xander,” Raif chimed in, his expression stern. “If only for a while.”

  “The matter is closed for discussion,” Xander said as though he’d dealt with hundreds of worse political headaches. He gave Raif a very pointed stare. “We’ll not speak of it again this day.”

  Huh. Well, he hadn’t shut down the discussion completely, just, “this day.” I suspected Raif would start up again in the morning, but until one of them decided to spill the beans, this had nothing to do with me. “Anyway, I wanted you to know that I’m back.” A pregnant pause filled the air. What else was there to say?

  “Stay for dinner,” Xander suggested, his gaze becoming hungry again. And not for food. Nervous energy skittered up my spine. I needed to calm the fuck down. “You don’t have to go back to your apartment, Darian. Not until you’re ready.”

  I gave Xander what I hoped was an apologetic smile. I knew that things were far from settled between us, but I was certain that staying here was not a good idea. “Thanks, Xander, but I have to go back sometime. The longer I put it off, the harder it will be.”

  I turned to Raif as I pushed my chair back from the table. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  His expression was soft, yet concerned. “All right. But if you need anything before then…”

  “I know,” I said, heading for the door. “Thanks, Xander, for my apartment. It really does help.”

  He didn’t hide his disappointment that I was leaving when he said, “It was my pleasure. Good afternoon, Darian.”

  I became one with the encroaching twilight and left them both where they sat.

  Chapter Three

  I told Xander I’d have to go back to my apartment sometime. But sometime wasn’t right this second. I took a detour by way of The Pit, anxious for the familiarity of my favorite haunt and a few quiet moments in my usual corner at the back of the bar.

  Since I was currently sans cell phone to check the time—it’s not like Verizon had a tower in O Anel—I could only guess by the sun’s disappearance in the western sky and the stifling, scratchy feeling that crept over my skin that the twilight hour was about to venture into full night. The absence of my phone made me wonder about the organized chaos of my former digs. Since my place had undergone an extreme makeover, I had no idea where any of my stuff was. Maybe it had all be reallocated to a warehouse somewhere with the Lost Ark and the rest of Indiana Jones’s stash.

  The Pit was gloriously empty when I walked through the swinging double doors. Levi, my favorite bartender and personal encyclopedia of all things supernatural was apparently off for the day. I didn’t recognize the woman standing behind the counter and my heart sunk a little. It would have been nice to see another friendly face, but on the bright side, at least I didn’t have to engage in any small talk. I ordered a Coke and headed to my favorite table in the back corner of the bar. Picking up where I’d left off, slipping into my old routine, felt good. I could pretend that this was any other day and I was my same old detached apathetic self. For a while, at least.

  An hour or so later the happy hour crowd began to filter in, providing me with some grade-A people watching. I loved the normality of it all. I envied the mundane, craved a boring existence that consisted of sleep, work, drinks, eat, sleep, work. All in that order. I wondered, as I observed nothing in particular, how many people in this after work crowd were harboring a secret. Who was cheating on his wife? Who had lost her job today? Which one of them had fended off an attack or lived with the shame of being too weak to stop something they didn’t want to happen. Was I the only one harboring shame, or was there a kindred spirit not ten feet away, battling the same demons I was, all the while wearing a fake, cheerful smile. Somehow, the thought was strangely comforting.

  Happy hour converged into happier hour the later the night went on. What day was it, anyway? I had no idea. Too busy for a weeknight, I assumed this was the Friday crowd, blowing off the week’s steam and gearing up for the weekend. I was nursing my fourth Coke and the bartender was starting to give me sidelong looks that indicated she might be suspicious of my loitering. Six months was a long time to be gone, I supposed. To her, I wasn’t a permanent fixture, I was the weird chick dressed like a throw-back to vampire-goth casing the joint from the back of the room. That, coupled with the fact that I’d been sitting here for going on six hours with nothing but watered down soda to keep me company and, sure, I could see why she might think I was a little on the suspicious side.

  As I pondered the whereabouts of my cellphone and other personal belongings—did Xander rearrange my underwear drawer while I was gone?—I couldn’t help but dwell on one of the considerable loose ends I’d left behind six months ago. As I was about to pop over to O Anel for my brief vacay, Raif flashed me a postcard with a picture of Seattle’s Space Needle on its glossy surface. A not-so-subtle indicator that my past had caught up to me.

  Or rather, was making an unwelcome re-appearance.

  Lorik, the son of an Armenian mob boss had all but owned Seattle in the 1930s and by all rights, he should have been dead by now. Not traipsing all over the globe, taunting me with postcards from each of his pit stops. Now, the questions assaulted me faster than my brain could process them: Why had he resurfaced? What did he want? How had he managed to cheat the laws of nature? And most importantly, was he still in the city, waiting for me?

  I sat a little straighter in my chair, no longer slouched and relaxed as I sipped from my drink. My skin crawled and my breath hitched in my chest as I was struck with the sensation that someone was watching me. It could have been triggered by the bartender, but I doubted it. The sense of unease intensified with each passing moment, and my heart skittered in my chest as an anxiety fueled burst of adrenaline spiked my bloodstream.

  I wanted to run.

  Fear constricted my lungs and pooled in my limbs until they twitched. I twisted the ring on my left thumb, the one piece of Tyler that was always with me, silently mustering up the courage to wish for him. Five little words would have him by my side in an instant and then I could finally breathe. Maybe if he was here, the uncontrollable fear would disappear.

  The self-loathing that I felt over my weakness was far worse than the fear that threatened to crush me under its weight. I reminded myself that I wasn’t weak. Or helpless. I could kick a little ass if I had to and it’s not like I wasn’t armed. Besides, what could possibly happen to me here? The Pit wasn’t overly seedy or dangerous. This was supposed to be my safe place. My fear was irrational and I was totally overreacting.

  Right?

  I reached down to my thigh and caressed the hilt of my dagger. Overreacting or not, my gut told me something wasn
’t right. My back was to the wall, and I could easily defend myself from my little corner of the bar. Not to mention the fact that if I truly felt threatened, I’d simply give myself over to the protection of the shadows. I didn’t have to fight if I didn’t want to…

  I narrowed my gaze at a lone form making its way to me through the press of people crowding the bar. The swagger was unmistakable, seeming to rocket me back to a place and time when I was another woman: blinded by infatuation, eager, drunk on my own power, excited by the danger and risk that had become a part of my existence. And though I knew he’d come to Seattle to find me, I doubted that I would’ve been any more shocked if Azriel himself had strolled through The Pit to my table. Because Lorik seemed no less a ghost than Az would have been.

  Holy shit. He hadn’t aged at all since I’d last seen him over eighty years ago. It shouldn’t have freaked me out. I mean, supernatural creatures just didn’t age at the same pace that humans did. I could have been in O Anel for centuries and when I came home Raif would have been as vibrant and youthful as ever. But Lorik wasn’t a supernatural creature. He was human. At least, he’d been human. He should’ve been nothing more than a walking skeleton. Gross. My first day home and I’d already had more than a couple WTF moments. Stellar.

  “Dariana!” Lorik exclaimed, arms spread wide as he approached my table. The nostalgia was totally creeping me out, the way he pronounced my name, softening the “ar” and adding an extra “a,” making it sound so much more elegant and feminine than it actually was, reminded me of one of our first encounters. “Finally you decide to come home. Tsk, tsk.” He wagged a scolding finger at me. “You make me think you don’t want to see me, running off like you did.”

  My mind drew a blank as I sat there, staring.

  “Well,” he said. “Are you going to invite me to sit down?”

  Was I? I had no fucking clue. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone display social grace and pleasantry. The music in the bar was a little too loud, the ever-present hum of the crowd, too distracting to my overloaded senses. Through the cranks and turns, the gears in my brain tried to make sense of what my eyes were seeing.

  “You’re so young!” I blurted. Totally classy.

  A brilliant smile dawned on Lorik’s face and his dark eyes sparked with a mischievous light. He was attractive in a flashy sort of way: always dressed to the nines, clean and well-groomed, though he pulled off that disheveled look without making it appear orchestrated. His dark hair was longer than I remembered; the thick waves brushed both his collar and his brows. He reminded me of Azriel in a lot of ways, though his personality was good-humored, something Azriel never managed.

  “I’ve missed you,” Lorik remarked as he pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down. He motioned for a cocktail waitress—another new employee I didn’t recognize—and slid a hundred dollar bill onto her tray. Just as slick as I remembered. “Whiskey. Neat. And bring my friend a—” he looked to me.

  “Coke.”

  Lorik laughed. “Bring my friend a martini. Dirty. And keep the change.”

  The waitress flashed him a million-watt smile before she headed off to the bar and Lorik turned his scrutinizing gaze to me, mouth puckered in distaste. “Coke,” he mocked in a flat, emotionless tone. “Darian, really?”

  The last time I’d laid eyes on Lorik, I’d been a different creature than the one I am now. I guess you could say I was almost…fun. Lighthearted. Maybe even a little carefree. But a lot had happened to me since those good ’ole days. Apparently, Lorik hadn’t kept up with the gossip. I sat there, staring, pretty sure my mouth was hanging open, unable to reply.

  When our waitress returned with our drinks, she looked from me to Lorik and back again, as though weighing our expressions in an effort to gauge our moods. Lorik was grinning like an idiot while I…well, I was still too shocked for anything other than a wide-eyed stare.

  “Drink,” Lorik urged as he pushed the elegant martini glass in front of me. “You obviously need to loosen up.” He tossed back his own drink and raised the empty glass to the cocktail waitress who was already headed back to the bar for another round. “Where have you been for the past six months, my darling? I’ve been so bored waiting for you to come home.” He leaned forward, his lip curled in distaste. “And for the love of god, what are you wearing? Did you go to a funeral today?”

  I looked down at my usual black ensemble and shucked the duster that suddenly seemed like a poor wardrobe choice considering my surroundings. Again I was reminded of the person I used to be, a woman who wore a little color now and then. Apparently one who didn’t look like she was in a perpetual state of mourning. “What are you doing here, Lorik?” Charming old friend or not, his appearance defied the laws of nature and man it wigged me the hell out. “More to the point, how are you here?”

  “Always so suspicious,” Lorik admonished as round two made it to the table. He tossed another hefty bill onto the girl’s tray and she promised to keep them coming. “Why aren’t you drinking?” I now had two untouched martinis in front of me and a half-finished Coke. “Come on, Darian, it’s been ages. Let’s have a little fun.”

  Ages was right. Jesus. As Lorik guzzled whiskey number two, I stared at the speared green olive bobbing in my martini like a buoy. A thousand memories assaulted me, and a thousand more theories as to how Lorik could have remained frozen in youth for the past eighty years. I had a feeling it had little to do with a great plastic surgeon and top of the line wrinkle cream.

  “I haven’t seen you in almost a century.” Okay, so I was having a little trouble with articulation. In my defense, I was pretty sure I was in shock.

  Lorik flashed me a smile. “All the more reason to celebrate!”

  “How did you find me?” Even though I’d never left Seattle in all of these years, it wasn’t like I’d been camped out at the same address for decades on end.

  Lorik canted his head to the side, his lips pursed in a chiding expression. “Darian, please. I am nothing if not resourceful. You’ve made quite the name for yourself and as always, you are a creature of habit. It was a small thing to find you.”

  Ask a stupid question… There was no doubt in my mind that I wasn’t at the top of my game. Going to O Anel had seemed like such a good idea at the time, and I couldn’t deny that being in Brakae’s presence for even a short time had been a soothing balm for my troubled soul. This was not the time for me to check out. I might not have been at a hundred percent, but I needed to get my head in the game. No longer on the defensive, I leaned forward in my chair and scooped one of the martinis up in my hand. I downed it in a couple of swallows—I needed a little liquid courage—and leveled my gaze at Lorik. “What do you want?”

  “That’s more like it.” Lorik had always appreciated getting right to business, that much hadn’t changed. “I was worried for a second that you’d gone soft, Darian. That perhaps, you’d lost your edge.”

  “You don’t know anything about my edge,” I remarked, downing the second martini.

  Lorik laughed and motioned for another round. “I know enough. And might I add, you keep quite the esteemed company. A king, no less. I have to admit, I never pegged you as the type to consort with royalty.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.”

  “Indeed. Tell me, what exactly is your arrangement with the Shaede High King?”

  Finally, down to business. Lorik wouldn’t have shown back up if he wasn’t looking for something. He never made a move that didn’t play to his advantage. Though I could speak to our arrangement, I couldn’t help but wonder exactly where Xander and I stood. I’d broken things off with him before my little vacation. But from the looks of my remodeled apartment, not to mention Xander’s attitude earlier today, that in his mind, things were far from over between us. “I work for the king on occasion.” No need to give Lorik any more information than necessary. “That’s all.”

  “I’m sure,” Lorik said with a sly grin. Ugh. “And what about n
ow? Who’s paying your bills my dear?”

  I didn’t appreciate Lorik’s undertone, though it could have been my own hang-ups that caused me to interpret his question as innuendo that I might be someone’s kept woman. “I pay my own bills.”

  “So touchy,” Lorik said with a shake of his head.

  Round three arrived just in time and though the first two martinis had begun to take their effects, I swallowed down the third with gusto. I figured the alcohol would burn through my system fast enough to keep me from getting too drunk, and though I hadn’t eaten all day, I counted the olives as dinner. It wasn’t good to drink on an empty stomach.

  “Do you honestly think you can show up here after months of mysterious postcards and just plop down at my table and ask a bunch of questions like we’re chummy, Lorik? It doesn’t work that way.”

  He shrugged his shoulders as if unconcerned. “I’m sure you have questions of your own and I have nothing to hide. Ask away.”

  His insufferably calm attitude was beginning to get on my nerves. It wouldn’t be long before I’d be tempted to stab him in order to release some of the tension I was feeling. “Will you even give me a straight answer if I ask? So far, you’ve been pretty good about dodging me.” I wasn’t in the mood for flippant replies. “Are you ready to be straight with me?”

  “As an arrow,” Lorik proclaimed. “What would you like to know?”

  “For starters,” I said. “How is it that you haven’t aged a day since I saw you last?”

  “Ah,” he said as he sipped from his drink. “Right to the point. I always liked that about you.”

  I quirked a brow. “Well?”

  “A gift,” he replied, “from a gypsy queen and powerful sorceress.”

  “A gift?”

  “Yes.” He waggled his brows. “I gave her many nights of pleasure and in return, she gave me eternal youth. Not a bad trade if you ask me.”

  Not the craziest thing I’d ever heard, but still… “You must have been great in the sack to get that kind of reward from her. Where did you meet this so-called sorceress?”