She licked her lips. “You’re right. It wasn’t you.”
He nodded. There was a tiny frown between his eyes. “You’re a strong woman. You’ve been knocked off your feet. Hard. Now you’re wallowing in the consequences. Stewing in your guilt.”
It was a far neater description of the last eighteen hours than her raging thoughts had managed. “So?” It came out almost as a whisper.
“I can take your mind off all of it,” he said.
Sabrina almost laughed at the pure ego of his statement. Almost. Except there was a look in his eyes that evaporated her amusement. It wasn’t ego. It wasn’t amusement. He wasn’t laughing at his own joke. He was in earnest.
Then she realized he wasn’t touching her at all. He wasn’t leaning against her. He wasn’t using his body to persuade her. He was standing close, but not close enough for that.
As she looked at him, trying to analyze his motives for saying something so extraordinary, he dropped his arms and just waited. All she had to do was step out around him and move away.
“You are not of my world and don’t want to be,” he said. “I have…other priorities. For a while, though, we could indulge ourselves. You would not regret it.”
There was a certainty in his voice, a knowing, that told her she would absolutely not regret it. He would make sure of it. She believed him, too. Nyanther was of a different age, when a man’s word was beyond price and not given easily.
“I had someone make almost the exact same offer, barely three hours ago,” she said. Her voice shook. “Only he is of my world. He’s successful, he’s rich and he’s going to end up running his own corporation and he wanted me. If I turned him down, what makes you think I would agree to your offer?”
He brought his hand to her face and she tried to back away, except the bookcase kept her where she was.
“Shh,” he breathed. “I won’t hurt you.” His big hand cupped her face. His touch was gentle and his flesh surprisingly soft, even if it was cool against her flushed face. “I’m just going to kiss you.”
“Why?”
“To explain why you might consider my offer.”
She wanted to laugh at him. She wanted to tell him no and squeeze out past him and get away.
She did neither. Instead, she let him kiss her.
He still did not touch her, except for his lips, which pressed against hers with the same gentle touch. Only, it didn’t last because despite being braced to experience something awful, his kiss was the opposite.
It was nice. It was very pleasant, in fact. There wasn’t the same sparks-exploding sensation she’d had when Jake had kissed her, but she could let a kiss like this continue without objections.
When did it shift and change? She didn’t know. She didn’t really care. Somewhere in the few moments when he kissed her, it became far more than a pleasant sensation. It was as if she had to get past the novelty of a vampire kissing her, to truly appreciate the kiss itself.
Why had she thought vampires were cold? Nyanther was not. He was as warm as she was. His lips were almost hot against hers.
His tongue slid against her lips, coaxing them open. She let them part and he delved deeper, exploring. It was a slow seduction. There was no hurry. It was as if he had all the time in the world to spend upon coaxing her to open up, to see that this was something she could learn to crave….
Then he lifted his mouth away from hers and just looked at her. He was measuring her.
Sabrina tried to get her breathing back under control. Her heart was thudding against her chest, fluttering like a caged bird. She blinked. It had become very bright in here in the last few minutes.
She found her voice. “Jake’s history got in the way and he only has thirty years of it. What about your thousands of years, Nyanther? What would that do to your proposal? To me?”
He took a breath. It was the first time she had ever seen a vampire breathing deliberately and deeply. He nodded and she thought she could see regret in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “I might not be able to protect you from the legacy of my past, not if you were more than an irritating roommate.” He touched her cheek and it was almost as if he was absent-mindedly passing the time by caressing her skin. “Only, you must not go farther down this trail of regret you’re following.”
Her insides jumped, although she was already so shaky it didn’t show. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he said gravely, his voice low. “Let go of whatever it is that made you act as you did yesterday and is still driving you today. Go back to your ordinary life that you value so much.”
Her breath shook. “How can you know…?”
He shook his head. “If you insist, if you continue as you are, you will end up bitter and hating your life.”
Then he turned and went back to the table, leaving her to stand staring at him, her mind whirling. He picked up the short sword and stuffed it into the duffel bag and zipped up the bag.
“Nyanther?” It was Nick’s voice, floating down from the apartment above.
“Coming!” Nyanther bellowed. He hefted the duffel bag and moved over to the iron stairs.
As he passed her again, he glanced at her. Unlike the first time she had met him, now his eyes were alive with emotion and feeling.
She shuddered as he climbed the stairs and disappeared.
You will end up bitter and hating your life.
Was he…had he been talking about himself?
Sabrina stayed where she was, her arms wrapped around her for warmth, as she fought the urge to follow him and demand answers. She realized that Nyanther was dangerous, after all—just not in the way she had been anticipating.
Chapter Six
Adirondack Park, south of Lake Placid, NY.
They had been moving steady west for the last two hours. Now it was past four in the morning and they weren’t getting any closer, that Nyanther could sense. What he did sense was the coming sunrise, like a glow in the back of his mind, making him restless.
He glanced at Nick, who was moving soundlessly through the heavy undergrowth, then at Riley. For a human, she could move with remarkable silence, although in the last hour she had stumbled three times. Even though she had not breathed a word of complaint, he knew she was tired. Humans could not evade their need for sleep for too long and she had only had one night back in New York to properly recover.
Even so, Nyanther did not suggest they stop and rest because the uneasiness building in him told him they were close. He could not smell the beast, not yet. He just knew it was somewhere ahead of them, trying to circle around them as it had been for the last few hours.
“Sunrise soon,” Nick murmured. “He’s trying to get back to his nest. Wherever that is.”
That was the other puzzle about this night. They were in among the lower slopes of the Adirondack Mountains and the area was a wilderness close to human habitation, which made it perfect for gargoyles. However, there were no caves that were not already staked out as tourist attractions. None of the Stonebrood clan would dare venture into a tourist cave, not after 1984, when Tally and Nick had cornered the last of them in such a cave, pincered between a dead end and too many humans.
So where was this one nesting?
“He’s doing a big loop around us,” Riley said, stopping to drink from her canteen and listening. “It means the nest is behind us, somewhere. He spent all night trying to lead us away, but sunrise is forcing his hand.” She scratched at the back of her wrist and forearm. Unlike he and Nick, she was at the mercy of mosquitos. The mosquito repellant humans used was almost acidic to vampire senses and she didn’t use it. Her clothes protected most of her body and she had rubbed a handful of lavender that she had snatched from a garden on the way into the park over her face. That had been before sunset and the lavender was losing its virtue now.
“Circle back?” Nyanther suggested. “We could try to cut him off.”
“Or meet him half-way there,” Nick added. �
�He’s taking the long way around.”
“Which makes me think we must have passed very close by the nest sometime earlier in the night.” Riley put the canteen away and looked at Nick. “How far away is sunrise?”
Nick considered. “Ninety minutes. A bit over.”
It matched Nyanther’s estimate.
“We should split up. We’ll scan more territory that way and lower the risk of missing the nest.” Riley looked at Nyanther. “We’ll be heading almost due east, so you go a hundred yards to the south, up into the higher slopes and move parallel with us, along the eastern line.” She glanced at Nick. “You head directly north for a hundred yards or so, then move east as well. You two can hear a long way and the pre-dawn hush will arrive soon. We’ll cover nearly five hundred yards between us.”
“Perhaps you should head upslope,” Nick said. “It’s easier going up there.”
Riley shook her head. “I’m tired. I’m making mistakes,” she said flatly. “If I follow back along the way we came, then he’ll think you are both with me. He’s heard me by now, so it won’t be a surprise to him if he hears me break twigs as I backtrack.”
Nyanther was still getting used to the novelty of having a human tell him what to do. Nick’s easy acceptance of Riley’s directions helped him recognize that this particular human could be trusted.
Now his awareness shifted into understanding. Riley really was good. She had spotted her own weakness—her tiredness—and was using it.
There had been several moments like this throughout the long day of driving up to the Adirondacks and scouring the local towns for fresh rumors of a monster in the woods. Nyanther was the least human-friendly of the three of them, so engaging locals in casual conversation was best left to Riley and Nick. Nick could be charming when he wanted to be and he used his British accent to the hilt.
However, Riley was the best at foraging information from just about anyone. She used her beauty like a weapon, adding in an almost Southern charm and her devastating smile to slice open a human’s natural wariness and discard it. Nyanther had seen her do it multiple times over the day. While Nyanther stayed well away from them and Nick hovered protectively nearby, to offer supporting comments with his best upper class voice, Riley would go to work. Within five minutes she would be chatting with them as though they were long lost friends. They had received multiple invitations for dinner, coffee and pie and a retirement party being held in a local bingo hall tomorrow night.
They had also learned from the father of a local deer hunter that people were staying away from the northern slopes of the High Peaks because a large bear was roaming the woods there. Carcasses had been found, savaged and eaten with a ferocity that warned the human hunters away.
“It’s been a lean summer for ol’ Smoky,” old man had added, with a wise nod. “There was another mean ol’ bear over around St. Huberts last week, ripping himself up a good feast or two, but he seems to have given up. Maybe he’s asleep for the winter already. It’s September, after all.”
The “bear” around St. Huberts he was speaking of had been Ingong, which was the reason they were casting around Lake Placid for hints of the other clan members. These new iterations of the clan didn’t hunt together like they had in Nyanther’s time, although they did like to stay within flight distance of each other.
An hour before sunset, they had headed into the park. They had caught their first hint of the gargoyle around ten p.m. and had been tracking it since then.
Now it was moving around them in a big circle, trying to go back the way it had come. If they spread out as Riley was directing them to, then they would be casting a net that could wrap around the creature and snare it as it tried to get back to the safe place where it was nesting.
It was a good plan.
Nyanther looked up the slope. The trees certainly didn’t look any thinner there than they did here. The undergrowth was still massively thick, even though the leaves were tinged red on their ends, heralding the coming winter. To his night vision, the red looked black, while the green of the undergrowth was a glowing rusty brown red. Anything with flesh and a pulse stood out almost like the neon signs humans favored. If there was a gargoyle nearby he would see it.
“A hundred yards,” he confirmed and took out his sword and hefted it.
“Stay sharp,” Riley warned him. “He’ll feel cornered.”
Nyanther nodded. Both Nick and Riley—actually, every hunter he had met in these modern centuries—referred to gargoyles in human terms. “He” instead of “it”. They even used their names like they used human names. Nyanther remembered a time when these creatures they hunted had been very different, when calling them by name and referring to them in human ways was right. He didn’t feel comfortable calling these rock-related creatures “he”, not even in his mind.
He climbed up the slope. It wasn’t a steep incline here, although the slope increased dramatically only a little farther ahead. The undergrowth, though, was a serious impediment to moving silently. After a hot summer and decent rainfall, the forest was thick and full.
When he had moved a hundred yards or so up the slope he turned to the east and started forward. Riley had already begun to move, which was sensible. If she was going to use her tiredness as a way of beating the undergrowth to flush the gargoyle out, then if she moved ahead, it would naturally try to skirt around her…right toward Nick or him.
Nyanther felt a fierce satisfaction at the idea of killing the beast. His entire life had been tied up with the fate of gargoyles. It seemed fitting now that he be here to see the final, utter end of them.
He pushed through the forest slowly, straining to hear anything that was not the movement of Riley. Even the smaller creatures were hunkered down, waiting for the threat to pass. They were wary of humans and even more frightened of vampires. With a gargoyle in their midst, it was no wonder the forest was so silent.
There was not even a pre-dawn breeze to move the upper levels of the trees. That would arrive soon. For now, the night was still and hushed, making him pick his way through it with great care.
After an hour of travelling east, his heart started to beat of its own accord. It wasn’t the exertion making it move. He was barely testing himself. These peaks were not the Scottish highlands with their soaring crags, ankle-breaking slopes and thin air.
Something was kicking his instincts into high gear.
He slowed down. Just for a moment, he wished he had a cell phone. It would allow them to coordinate properly. However, there were other, more ancient ways to do that. He turned and faced the direction he suspected Nick to be and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Nick?” he whispered into the air. If he was right about where he thought Nick was, then he would hear the directional whisper. Riley would not. Not even the most sensitive human could hear across such distances.
The whisper came back. “It’s ahead of me.”
“Coming,” Nyanther breathed and started cutting down the slope at a diagonal, which would give him forward movement yet put him on a path to intersect with Nick’s and Riley’s. He moved faster, letting himself make more noise. Like Riley, his movement would help flush the creature out and drive it toward Nick, who was closest.
There was a thicket ahead. American forests didn’t have thickets, generally. The growth was too vertical and interrupted by cold winters to develop the gnarled old knots of trees and bushes growing into each other, their branches tangling and intertwining until it was impossible to pass through them. This summer, though, with its heat and rain, had helped develop pockets of thicket-like growth where the trees overhead were thin enough to allow strong sunlight to blaze on the bushes below.
This was one such grove ahead. It would be perfect cover for an enemy to hide behind. Far to Nyanther’s left, he could see Nick approaching it, his long sword in his right hand and his belt knife in the other. Riley was behind both of them. She had moved more slowly than either of them and he could hear her pushing through the forest clearly
. She was no longer even trying to hide her progress. With every step she took, branches cracked and popped.
Nyanther decided to move around the heavy growth. Going through it wasn’t possible. If there was something hiding behind it, Riley’s noisy approach might drive them out and he would be in a position to deal with it.
Nick was to his left so he turned right and began to circle the thicket. It told him how large it was.
Something was definitely moving behind it, only he couldn’t find the end of the growth. He kept circling, looking for the edge so he could step around it. The noises behind it were louder now. Something large was there. Large and moving.
The truth slammed into him with a shock that made him gasp. “It’s a circle!” he cried aloud. There was no point in silence anymore.
Whatever hid behind the enclosing growth made an inhuman growling sound that made Nyanther’s spine prickle hard. “Gargoyle! Inside! Inside!” he cried.
There was no choice. He was going to have to go through the dense bushes. He hacked at them with his sword, moving as fast as he could, cutting a path through. Branches slapped at him. One scratched his face, making him hiss. He wore no jacket – it wasn’t cold enough to demand one and out here no human could see him ignoring what they considered to be a chill. He was paying for it now. Sharp twigs clawed at his arms.
He ignored it all. He’d heal. Instead, he barreled his way through the narrow path he made, using bodyweight, speed and power. Riley, if she was smart, would follow his trail and save herself the effort, which would be beyond her strength.
He almost fell into the clearing inside the thicket, at the same time Nick stumbled through into the space on the other side. It was a large, sandy shallow bowl, nearly ten yards across.
In the middle of the bowl was an astonishing sight. One of the largest of the clan was standing on its hind legs, upright like a prairie dog, which put its head nearly fifteen feet up. It was flailing at the air around its head, as if it was waving at flies. Its eyes glowed red, pulsing with fury.
The reason it was scrabbling about its ears with its shortened front legs was because of the man standing on its shoulders. No, not standing. The man was on his knees, using them to grip its neck and hold on. Underneath the man, snarling the creature’s wings and snaring its long pointed ears, was a netting made of thick, nylon rope. Apart from the bright blue color of the rope, it could have been one of the nets the gladiators had used in the Roman arena in Caerleon.
Sabrina's Clan Page 6