by Eileen Wilks
“You tell me where he is.”
Even with a watering eye, her vision wasn’t completely blurred, and she saw Bronze. He stood naked in the doorway, his wet hair dripping water. He looked like a Viking berserker, the dagger in his right hand slick with blood.
It felt as though she stared at him forever, but it must have only been seconds. She dragged her eyes away to look around and realized there were only two ventala left in the house with her. The fake sheriff bared his fangs and grabbed her. Teeth scraped her neck. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
She saw Bronze’s eyes, dark with fury, as he sailed through the air. The sheriff was yanked away from her by the hair, his head snapping back. Her visitor slit the ventala’s throat in a smooth motion while still airborne. He landed nearly silently, turned and drove the dagger down behind the sheriff’s left collarbone. The ventala’s eyes widened as he slammed to his knees, then fell facedown.
Bronze fought the other ventala, dispatching him with equal efficiency, but Bronze didn’t escape unwounded. She gasped at the half-buried knife in his flank. He grimaced and slid the blade out on a river of blood.
“Oh no!” she said, struggling to her feet.
When she reached him, she saw other wounds. A slice through his left shoulder that gaped open when he moved, a hole in his left thigh, a slice along his hip. He rested the dagger on the couch and sank to his knees holding the gushing flank wound.
She fumbled for the keys on the sheriff’s belt, her hands damp with sweat. She brought Bronze the keys with shaking hands.
“Can you uncuff me? Then I can help you.”
He groaned. “My back isn’t the only thing that hurts now.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Oh God,” she said, wincing. Please let the bleeding stop!
He took the keys. “Small shackles,” he murmured. “Delicate like your wrists.”
The cuffs popped open, and she turned back to him. He forced himself to a standing position, panting for breath. He bent forward so that the front of his body rested on top of the couch, then he rolled over it so he lay lengthwise.
“Come here, Kate.”
“Where the hell’s my phone? I have to call an ambulance,” she said, searching frantically.
“No, stay close,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I want—”
“Yes?” she asked, leaning over him.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. He looked so vulnerable. Waves of tenderness crashed over her. Don’t let me lose him. “I just need to call for help. Lie still.”
He shook his head. She tried to pry her hand free of his grip, but couldn’t. He drew her arm to him, tugging the rest of her with it. “I want you close.”
“I promise I’ll come right back.”
“I won’t hurt you. I swear.”
What? Is he confused from losing so much blood? God, I need to hurry. “I’m not worried about that! You’re bleeding to death! Can’t you feel it? There’s no time to waste.”
He tugged her closer, shifting so he lay sideways. She tried to yank herself free, but he was still ridiculously strong. He positioned her against him, and at least he didn’t feel cold.
“This is crazy. You’re going to die.”
“Not today,” he said, and his breathing, which had been shallow and short, slowed to an even rhythm. His arm pressed against her back, and through her clothes, she felt his groin, which apparently wasn’t dead yet.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said dryly, but it was a relief that he had enough blood left for that or anything else.
He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tight to his body and buried his face in her neck. She felt him inhale.
She didn’t struggle because there was no point; his grip was obscenely strong. She waited, expecting it to loosen as his blood drained away, but instead he pressed his lips to the side of her throat. Moments stretched like a bowstring. When he began to reposition them, she forced her fists between their chests.
“Hold on,” she said.
“I think you’re mine,” he whispered. He kissed her jaw and a moment later, her body was beneath his.
“Stop,” she said.
He stilled. “Are you certain? My instincts tell me—”
“That’s not your instincts talking!”
He hesitated, and for a moment she didn’t know if he would let her go, but he did. Then he rose. He was still magnificently naked and clearly unconcerned about it. She shouldn’t have noticed, but God he was beautiful.
“Don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you,” he said.
“I’m not afraid. I think you’re a lunatic,” she said, keeping her eyes on his shoulders and above. “You have to let me take you to the hospital.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
He flashed a heartbreaking smile and shrugged. “Because I don’t need to go there. And because . . . I want to stay with you.”
She watched his muscles flex as he walked away. It was only after he’d disappeared from view that she realized his wounds no longer bled.
So whoever he is, he’s immortal.
Kate quickly retrieved his clothes from the dryer while he rid the living room of ventala bodies. He tossed them unceremoniously into the snow, ate two roast beef sandwiches, and showered again, though she told him they should just leave. The ventala he’d fought might not be fully dead. Unless their heads were cut off, the strongest ventala could heal what should have been fatal wounds. Bronze shrugged indifference at the possible threat, and who could blame him when all his wounds had closed and disappeared within three-quarters of an hour?
When he was dressed and the house locked, he followed her to her jeep, helping to load her bags into the car.
“I’ve had dreams with you in them,” she confessed.
“Oh? What kind of dreams?”
“Usually you’re falling off buildings or fighting with a really pretty blond guy.” She paused, wanting to raise the subject of the other dreams but unsure of how to phrase things to cause the least embarrassment for them both.
“I have no memory of anything like that yet.” He climbed into the passenger’s seat and eased it back to accommodate his long legs.
Eyeing him, she started the car. She’d hoped he might ask her more questions about the dreams, but he didn’t seem inclined to. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled audibly. Maybe it was a topic better left alone.
“So the ventala knew you were at my house,” she said, talking more to herself than him. “I wish I knew how. Maybe one of the ones you fought in the woods had time to call and tell the others.”
“That’s possible. I didn’t see what they did before they attacked us.”
“I’m going to take you to the Etherlin. It’s a private community that the ventala can’t enter.”
“The Etherlin,” he said, trying out the word.
“It’s the home of a group of women who descended from the ancient muses.”
“Muses? From the Greek myths?”
“Yes, the modern muses inherited magic from their ancestors. They inspire people to create art and music, to excel athletically, to invent things—basically to imagine better and greater things for themselves and the world. The people the muses inspire are called aspirants. I’m one of them.”
He nodded but didn’t comment.
“While I’m in the Etherlin, I’ll talk to Alissa, the muse I work with. Talking to her always revs my mind. It’ll help me come up with new theories and ideas about why the ventala are after you.”
“How do the muses help human beings have ideas?”
“They’re part magical. Scientists have studied them and noticed that the muses have special proteins circulating in their blood and that the timbre and quality of their voice changes when they speak to someone they’re trying to influence. Their voices contain a vibratory note that activates more parts of the brain than normal human speech, particularly t
he areas used for creativity.”
“The muses have a divine gift.”
“Yeah. Pretty great of them to share it, huh? They’re very altruistic. Unlike the ventala, who are totally self-serving. If you really are from the past, maybe they’re worried you know something dangerous. Maybe there’s something you came here to do that will hurt them . . . so they want to stop you before you get the chance,” she murmured.
“What do the ventala fear in general?”
“They’re afraid that people will decide that the ventala are too violent to live among us. Of course, attacking people only makes us more likely to think that, so they must want you dead very badly to risk the consequences of attacking in daylight in a human neighborhood.”
“Were the ventala slaves?”
“No.”
“But they don’t have full citizenship? They’re treated like foreigners?”
“Kind of. Vampires were predators and were killed for that reason. The ventala are part vampire, so they’re treated differently from people who are fully human. The laws put special restrictions on them. It pisses them off. They’d like more freedom, but it’s tough to trust them with it.”
“Since they’re stronger and more violent than human beings?”
“Exactly. They’re impulsive, and they sometimes fly into a rage without warning. In this case, though, their pursuit of you is obviously premeditated. You know what’s strange? They knew you’d lost your memory. Maybe they attacked you and gave you a head injury? But how did you escape if you were badly injured? And if you can heal wounds so fast, why wouldn’t you have healed a head injury just as quickly?” She paused, shaking her head. “So many questions. Not enough answers.”
“Nathaniel.”
She blinked.
“My name is Nathaniel,” he said triumphantly.
“That’s great! Do you remember your last name?”
He shook his head.
“ES—Etherlin Security—should be able to help us. They have sophisticated equipment to identify nonhuman creatures and people with superhuman abilities. If anyone can figure out what you are, it’s ES, so don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried, Kate. I have faith that my memory will return in its own time. Now tell me about your dreams of us. How did we meet? And what’s the nature of our relationship? Are we in love?”
Her gaze slid to him. “Well,” she said, and then smiled self-consciously. “Sometimes we are really . . . close. Other times you’re very focused on fighting and barely register that I’m there.”
“Is that so?” he said, clearly skeptical. “I don’t think your presence is something that would easily escape my attention.” He clasped his hands, tapping his thumbs against each other. “They’re only dreams. They don’t tell the entire story.”
“You’re sure of that, are you?” She smiled. “And what do your instincts tell you is supposed to be between us? A great love affair?” she teased, wanting him to say yes.
“No,” he said, and her smile faded. “Not an affair. That would ruin your reputation. You’d be a fallen woman.”
Oh my. There’s some more of that two-thousand-year-old morality, she thought, her spine stiffening.
“If there was love between us, I’d make you my wife, Kate. And you’d belong to me for life.”
Belong to him. For life. Wow.
The idea sent an odd thrill through her, but was also kind of terrifying. What would it be like to be married to someone as stubborn, archaic, and uncompromising as Nathaniel? What would that mean for her career? Would passion totally consume her and leave room for nothing else? Emotions certainly seemed to swallow her whole in those dreams. She shivered. Yes, thrilling. And also terrifying.
Chapter Four
The white stone walls around the Etherlin had been sanded smooth and covered with a gloss that made them opalescent. They were topped with glittering silver barbed mesh that matched the silver and white gates.
Kate pulled over and killed the engine. If she had been alone, she wouldn’t have needed to get out of the car, but since she had a visitor unknown to ES, she walked to the guard post. The blazer-wearing guard looked like he should have been rowing crew in the Ivy League. His mop of curly hair had been aggressively tamed with gel, but it still made him look slightly boyish.
Kate explained that she’d brought someone whose nature was, as yet, unclear and that she hoped they could help. She waited while the guard, whose badge identified him as J. Pinter, called for a more senior officer. Nathaniel emerged from the jeep and stood silently beside her as she chatted with Pinter.
Kate smiled when she saw Grant Easton, the ES director. Grant lived up to the blue-blood cut of his nose and jaw. He strode forward like he owned the world—or soon would.
“Well, if it’s not our vampire-hunting aspirant,” Grant said with a broad smile. “How are you, Kate?”
She smiled, too. “I’m well. Thank you.”
“Vampire hunting?” Pinter asked.
“Sure. Kate’s an investigative reporter, and she uncovered a hot spot for missing persons. A human Bermuda triangle for travelers on road trips that turned out to be the hunting ground for a huge nest of cave-dwelling vampires who escaped the extermination.”
“That was you?” Pinter asked.
She nodded.
“I saw those photographs. You were as close to them as I am to you.” He clucked his tongue. “You could’ve been killed.”
“No guts, no glory,” she said.
“Spoken like a champion of the gods. Next up, recovering the Golden Fleece,” Grant joked, giving her shoulder squeeze.
“There’s one God,” Nathaniel said, putting a hand on Kate’s arm and drawing her away from Grant. “And when waging war for him, the weapon carried is not a camera.”
“Muses are real. The gods of Olympus may have been real as well,” Grant countered.
“Many groups of superhuman creatures have resided on the earth or presided over it, but they were all created by a single source. And if they exploit their powers and toy with men for sport, their existence is reduced to myth.”
They all stared at Nathaniel.
How could he know that unless he’s—? No, Kate thought. I saw his back. No wings. No scars. He can’t be an angel. But what about his back pain? And the red marks?
“No one knows for sure what happened to the Olympians, but that’s an interesting theory. Where did you hear it?” Grant asked.
Nathaniel shrugged. “It’s an echo through my soul.”
Grant raised his brows. “That’s an interesting way of evading the question.”
Nathaniel walked to the jeep. “Come, Kate.”
“No,” Grant said. “Kate’s an aspirant, which means she’s under our protection. She’s not going anywhere with you until we’ve established who and what you are.”
Nathaniel tried the door, but it had locked automatically.
Grant rounded the jeep. “Come this way.”
“I decline your invitation,” Nathaniel said.
“Why? What are you hiding?” Grant demanded.
“Hold on,” Kate said, horrified by the rising confrontation.
Pinter drew his gun.
Nathaniel stiffened. “No!” Nathaniel said, stretching a hand toward Pinter. “You must not attack me with intent. I am bound to defend myself by a higher law than my own will. And if we fight, you will not survive.”
“What?” Grant said. “What are you claiming?”
“Rest easy, boy,” Nathaniel said as Pinter’s hand trembled.
“Pinter, do not lower that weapon.”
Nathaniel looked at Grant then, the gold flecks in his eyes blazing. “Do not push him to make a mistake.”
Grant grabbed Nathaniel’s arm. “That’s—”
Nathaniel’s palm slammed into Grant’s chest, and Grant flew backward, landing hard on the ground. Nathaniel said, “Free will comes with consequences.”
“Nathaniel, don’t!” she said.
“You would take sides against me?” he demanded.
“I’m not taking sides.”
Grant regained his feet with effort and held out a hand to Pinter, who had his weapon trained on Nathaniel.
“Demons sometimes disguise themselves as men and other creatures,” Grant said. “They spout prophecies and try to trick us with claims that they’re God’s messengers or soldiers, so we don’t kill them. You’ll come with us, so we can discover your true nature.”
“Killing demons is not the responsibility of men. Resisting temptation is work enough for mankind.”
“And we should let the demons kill us whenever they want?”
“Kate,” Nathaniel said, resting his hand on the roof. “I don’t belong here. Open the door.”
“Kate, you should stay with us,” Grant said. “I’ll take you into the Etherlin where you’ll be safe.”
She felt like a wishbone about to be broken between them. The Etherlin represented all the world’s promise for her dazzling future, but Nathaniel might become the love of her life. She wanted both. She couldn’t allow them to be at odds with each other. She had to smooth things over.
She glanced at the gates and then walked around the car to Nathaniel. “You remember what you are?” she whispered.
“I have an idea, yes.”
“So you don’t need my help anymore?” she murmured.
“I never needed your help.”
She flinched.
“Let’s go, Kate.”
He still wanted her to go with him. That was something. “Hold on. This isn’t just about you,” she whispered fiercely. “I have a relationship with this community. This amazing community. You can’t ask me to jeopardize that. I need for you to come inside and to submit to a few tests so that they’ll be satisfied that you’re not dangerous.”
“I am dangerous, and I won’t submit to anything.” His tone was so hard and even. So final. As if what she needed didn’t matter to him at all. Her body became rigid, her emotions brittle as glass.
“You owe me an explanation,” she said.
“I’m leaving this place right now. You can accompany me or not.”
She glared at him. She was not going to be steamrolled. “We need to talk this out.”