by Marie Hall
The bell above the shop jingled as Eve walked out.
He turned, torn between finding Frenzy and going to her. It was his hand that decided him. His fingers were fleshy. Whatever Frenzy had in mind, it wasn’t death. At least not now. Shooting one last glare at the darkness, he walked toward her.
The confusion written on her brows gave way to excitement as she finally noticed him walk up. She smiled. “There you are.”
“Aye.” He held his arm out to her, after a moment’s hesitation she slipped her arm in.
Inside he trembled with rage. Breathe. Breathe or she’ll know something’s wrong. He couldn’t help but cast a quick glance behind his shoulder. Nothing. She never noticed.
“Aye, hmm. That’s very archaic.”
He ground his jaw; he hadn’t meant to slip into the old speech. He’d broken himself of the habit centuries ago, a telltale that had become too dangerous to use. But his mind was consumed. The betraying pulse of death was gone, but the memory lingered on. He rubbed his jaw, stretching out with his senses, listening for something. Except for the rustle of rodents and heavy shuffle of normals, he heard nothing to indicate danger.
She raised a brow. The smile on her face slipping, waiting for his response, a nuance, some validation that he’d heard her. He took a slow, deep breath and tried to pretend that everything was okay. That she wasn’t marked by death.
But the truth was that everything wasn’t okay. Was it? Just like the fae’s he despised, he looked her in the eyes and without missing a beat, forced a smile. Cruel deceit.
She sighed, and calm replaced the tension. “I like it.” She flashed him her familiar crooked grin. “Sounds very chivalrous. So were you Irish before the big change?”
Whichever reaper he’d sensed was now long gone. But the cold reminder of her plight settled heavy on his mind. Fact was, he wasn’t just a man on a date. He was here to protect. Period.
“Yes,” he said almost as an afterthought.
She shrugged her shoulders, winding her knitted wrap tighter around herself. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Can you just imagine the old magick permeating those hills?” She glanced at him under the cover of her lashes and chuckled. “Well, I suppose you could, couldn’t you?”
“I probably could, Eve.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not my brightest moment. I swear you’d think I was blond sometimes.”
A passing pedestrian jogged past, accidentally bumping into her, forcing her tight to his side. He noticed that she didn’t bother to move, even after the jogger had disappeared from sight. He didn’t know why, but that pleased him. The feel of her thigh grazing his and her scent mingling with the salty air of the bay, had heat traveling straight to his loins. Lights dotted the sidewalk as late evening soon gave way to the dusky painting of night.
He looked at all the faces. Studying them. Committing them to memory. The walk, though pleasant, was a façade. A pretense of normalcy on his part. But he was used to pretense. It was like breathing, eating, or sleeping to him. To survive at the courts you had to be good at faking it. Until recently, he’d always been. Until her.
The busy streets of San Francisco boomed with life. Hawkers, their silver carts of goods standing at spaced intervals on the path, sold everything from Wharf souvenirs to steaming piles of crab and chilled oysters on the half shell. A city of mixed cultures and ethnic diversity. Seemed appropriate for his dark witch. Somehow she belonged, and he understood why the supers choose to call San Francisco home.
After awhile he relaxed. Not into a false sense of security, but at least enough to enjoy what time he had with her. Nothing attacked them. For now.
Carpe Diem.
They took their time walking. Neither in any hurry, or with any real sense of where to go, only content to enjoy the company the other had to give.
A crisp wind slid in from the bay and settled over the city like a wet cloak, turning the slightly balmy day into a cool spring night.
Eve smiled and glanced up at him, her cheeks filled with a red glow. “How old are you, Cian?”
“Been wondering about that for a while now, haven’t you?” he teased. Funny how easy he was able to do that with her. Comfortable. Like an old shoe.
She twisted her lips. “Guilty as charged. It’s a thing for me. Being mortal myself I sometimes feel a little envious of you immortals who got to see all these times and places I can only read about.”
The reminder of her mortality was like a tight band around his chest. He lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. “I’m several centuries old and my exuberance for life has diminished. It’s never-ending and ceaseless, one day rolling into the next with no end in sight. In truth, I envy the mortal who can live life to the fullest; only they can understand the true depth of what it means to live. I just carry on.”
She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “C’mon. Don’t be so glum about it. Honestly. What a wonderful gift you’ve been given. To see the rise and fall of civilizations. The changing of time and people from one era to the next. You know I would have given anything to be around during the Victorian Era. Those corsets are a sinful fetish of mine.”
He chuckled. Her enthusiasm filled him, touched the ache in his soul and made him remember moments from his past he’d have forgotten otherwise. “That was a prudish era. You’d have suffocated. Women were little more than chattel to the men.”
“Well not all. Take Lily Langtry for instance. An actress, a business owner, and let’s not forget the self-confessed mistress to a future King. It couldn’t have been all that bad.”
He nodded. “She was indeed the exception.”
“Ha!” She wagged her finger under his nose. “I gotcha! Should have probably let you know that I’m a research enthusiast. You know much of the gothic movement takes its manner of dress and speech from the Victorian era. It’s a hobby.” She shrugged like it was no big thing.
But in truth, he was impressed. Eve wasn’t just a pretty face, she was engaging and he found himself drawn to her like a moth to flame. Dangerous. A deadly fascination. Because the moth was always consumed by the light.
She shook her head. “I’m such an awful romantic. I guess I wouldn’t replace the convenience of a hospital for the fact that women died during something as simple as childbirth. But just a glimpse. Is that too much to ask?”
“Anytime you want to know. I’ll be happy to answer.”
“Good.” She peeked at him. “Were you around during the great Roman Empire?”
“Mmhmm.” Memories sped through his mind. The acropolis. Roman soldiers. Sweat. Tears. Blood. The coliseum. Caged fighters and beasts.
She stuck out her tongue in a mock drooling fashion. “Excuse me, while the history geek in me drools over that. Seriously. That’s amazing. To think I have my own personal history book at my disposal.”
He shook his head with a smirk. “Geek huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one as appealing as you. I should hang out at the library more often.” More teasing? This was unlike him. Different. But he didn’t altogether dislike it.
She hummed with exuberance. It settled over him like a soothing balm.
“So you’re pretty old there, vamp,” she said, hedging.
“So I’ve been told.”
She chuckled. “You’re exasperating, man. Worse than a female.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t answer.
A rap beat grew in volume the nearer they came to the center square of Fisherman’s Wharf. A man, painted entirely in silver, stood immobile. His limbs held rigid in an odd posture, his eyes unblinking. At least until a tourist decided to walk up and take a picture next him, then he’d reach out to yank the hat off their heads and slip their purse straps from off their shoulders.
They stopped to watch for a moment before they continued on.
“So,” Cian asked, “how did you sleep last night?”
She shot her gaze to him, her eyes a little wide, panicky. He tasted the faint tremors of it on
his tongue.
“Awful. How’d you know?”
He indicated her neck. The mark of Bezel long gone, her flesh a smooth, creamy porcelain. “The demon’s kiss. It’s effect lasts for twenty-four hours. Terrible nightmares. I was wondering if you were okay.”
She let out a deep breath, shaking her head, a weak grin on her face. “I’m sorry. That was just so ironic that you’d know to ask that question. Yes, I had awful dreams last night. I didn’t sleep much afterwards.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You should sleep fine tonight.”
“Good to know.”
The closer they drew to Pier 39 the more the overpowering stench of wet sea lion filled the air. Their honking and chatter could be heard long before they were spotted lazing about on the floating wood.
The sea lions came and went as they passed the pier without a backwards glance, it seemed Eve had a purpose to their meanderings after all. Which was fine by Cian. Until she started taking him on twists and turns further away from the tourist traps and deeper into the heart and soul of the city itself.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ve rescheduled this appointment about ten million times, always finding one reason or another why I couldn’t make it. But tonight, I have company, and I feel brave. So I’m going to meet my friend and you’re coming with me.”
He nodded, waiting for her to explain where exactly it was, but it seemed that’s all she’d say on the matter.
The busy section of San Francisco--filled to bursting with humans--thinned out the deeper they moved down the alleyways. Soon they were in Chinatown and cutting a winding path through tall, slanting apartment buildings.
Sirens wailed, cats screeched and hissed. A steady drip of water became a pounding, incessant noise in the background. Cian’s nerves were taut, his eyes roving the dark shadows. He could feel the supers like second skin; their individual powers washed over him and made him keenly aware of the dangers the night held. The reaper he’d sensed earlier came immediately to mind.
Again he grew anxious for her. His gaze roving through shadow, searching.
Then he caught scent of Were--many, of different varieties, wolves, panthers, bear, falcons… too many to count--thoughts of other reapers fled. He stopped, it was one thing to make her happy, but he refused to walk them headlong into danger. “Eve, where are we going?”
“Don’t worry. It’s someplace safe.” She tugged on his arm.
He ground his jaw, looked around, but when she tugged again he reluctantly continued. Then he felt something, a fluttering whisper of panic in the air--a metaphysical sensation of hands scraping at a delicate neck, fangs ripping through a jugular. A feeding.
“Get behind me,” he whispered, grabbing and shoving her behind him.
A rustle of leather and exhalation of sharp breaths had every nerve in his body zinging to life. The metallic stench of blood traveled through the air like mist.
He tensed. Rainwater dripped off a nearby gutter. A steady irritation in the chaos of his mind. She felt his unease. It coiled around him, gripped him in a tight fist.
“Cian wha--” Her panic clawed at his flesh. She was remembering last night. Bezel stalking her. Harry slumped over the dumpster.
“Ssh.” He placed a finger against his lips.
The bump of a beating heart echoed like gunfire in his head, a pounding thump against his chest.
Boom boom.
Boom boom.
The caustic odor of hot blood wafted under his nose. He pulled his upper lip back in a reflexive motion, filling his lungs with more of the scent.
Heart was slowing down. The beats less pronounced, growing weak and fragile. Life being expunged.
“Feeding vampire,” he whispered. The sounds were coming from a few yards away. He narrowed his eyes, searching the dank surroundings. “We’re going back. I’m not walking you into danger.”
They needed to leave. Now. Before she witnessed the truth of what he really was. He grabbed her elbow, but it was already too late.
Sparks of fire raced down his right arm and into his hand. He hissed and dropped her arm. Shoving his hand into his coat pocket. Electrical vibrations pulsed through his skin. He curled his fist and within seconds felt nothing but bone touching bone. With a thought, he used his essence to create gloves and covered his hand in them. Never again would he come around Eve without protection. Because though it appeared he wore a glove, he didn’t actually have one on. One touch of his hand against her pale flesh and she’d be comatose.
“Hell,” he barked. Sweat stained his brows.
“Cian? What’s wrong?”
“Vamp sucked the mortal clean.”
A flash of black flitted past the corner of his vision.
“Bastard,” he snapped, drawing the vamp out from the shadows. “You killed it.”
The lithe figure of a vampire stepped away from the wall and into a shaft of moonlight. It was female. Purple hair, the color of royalty, curled down around slim shoulders. Eyes so blue they looked black stared back at him without remorse. A scarlet trail stained the corner of her mouth to her chin. She rubbed the back of her hand against her lips.
Eve sucked in a breath. Recognition. Disgust.
He pushed her emotions away.
“Who the hell cares? Homeless trash.” She sneered, exposing two long and pointed canines. “Nobody’ll miss him. I did the world a favor by getting rid of that thieving beggar.”
How could the others forget so soon? How could they afford to be so careless where mortal life was concerned? A twisting, churning anger consumed him.
“Have you forgotten the Great War? The fragile peace between our kind and theirs? Are you ready for the consequences of what you’ve done?”
Eve rubbed a hand down the small of his back. He leaned into the soothing comfort of her touch.
“Consequences,” she scoffed, and between one blink and another, stood toe to toe with him. Power flowed from her body. A dangerous energy radiated in the space between them.
His gaze never wavered from hers.
“This is a new day, ancient. This is my land. We rule the streets and set the laws. Not humans.”
He shook his head. “That type of ignorant thinking will be the downfall of us all. Predators are solitary creatures. Humans have always, and will always, band together. That is why they are dangerous, that is why you cannot,” he stressed through clenched teeth, “afford to disregard them. Be wary, vamp. This world is not as safe as you’d believe.”
The vampire flicked her cold gaze to Eve. Blood red lips tipped at the corners in a sickle shaped smile. She reached out a hand toward his witch. “We meet again, dark one.”
Anger rammed through his skull, choking him. Eve was projecting. Like concertina wire wrapping its thorny barbs around his heart. His gaze flicked toward the vamp. Her eyes were wide, nostrils flaring. Surely tasting Eve’s wrath.
“Don’t you dare touch me, Indigo. Too high on blood to remember the truce? Is that it? You know the rules of this land. The laws the government set. We are never to harm our human hosts. If you don’t give a damn about the Great War then maybe you’d better start thinking about where you’re gonna live next year if the government decides we’re a failed experiment.”
A hateful glare burned in Indigo’s dark blue eyes. “You think we’ve forgotten what your kind did to us? The lives your people stole and tried to subvert to your own will. Someday, Eve, you’ll be under my thumb!”
Eve snarled and took a step forward. The amulet around her neck began to glow purest red. “If you knew your history, then you’d know those were our ancestors. Not us.” She pounded a finger against her own chest in emphasis. “The witches have done nothing but try and make peace. And I’m getting damn tired of being grouped within that circle of murderers and deceivers. That was them. Not me.”
Indigo smirked. Shimmering violet of her hair swinging back and forth with her shaking head. “Their blood runs through your veins. If I had my
way, I’d kill you all.”
His every muscle locked down, his body coiled and ready to spring into action should Eve need him. It took everything he had not to reach out and rip the vampire’s head off her shoulders.
Eve straightened her back and held her arm out straight, fingers pointed at Indigo’s chest. “Try it.”
The world around them narrowed down to a pinprick of absolute silence. Air shimmered and vibrated with a killing strain. One second passed.
Two.
Three.
Five.
With a hiss, Indigo transformed into a tower of black mist, disappearing from sight.
His nostrils flared. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins as he looked at Eve. Pride burned a hole through his chest, settling deep into his heart.
Eve dropped her hand. Her body hummed. He walked up to her, grasping her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. She swayed slightly toward him and he closed his eyes in relief.
If he hadn’t been here, Eve would have bumped into the feeding vampire alone. She’d seemed more than capable of taking care of herself. This time. Still, look how wrong it went with the demon. She was strong. But not strong enough to handle every element of the supernatural.
How was he supposed to keep her safe? This world was in anarchy. Creatures of the night vying for a spot, turf, a place to call their own, while normals dictated all they could and couldn’t have. It was a recipe for disaster.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stood still, but slowly nodded. Then, as if shaking from a trance, she turned, her small hand bunched into the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you.”
“I did nothing.”
“No, you did. You were there.” Her gaze shifted back and forth over his face. “Your presence made me strong.”
He nodded, wishing he could touch her, but his hand was still bone. He shoved in deep into his pocket, flexing it open and closed, willing his hand to return to normal. “How did you know her?”
“We own the only shop that caters to the comforts of the others.”
“She’s trouble,” he murmured, staring at the vacant spot Indigo had inhabited. “Naïve. And foolish.”