A Fall of Silver (The Redemption Series)

by Amy Corwin

  As if his vigilance weren’t enough, the cat had taken up a position at the end of the chair, eyes half-closed, purring to itself. It followed her around, always just out of reach but never out of sight.

  The second day after her release, she lingered in her chair, drowsy and reluctant to move. The last rays of the sunset gilded the sky deep bronze, and the black, twisted branches of the trees twinkled with silver, still damp from the rain earlier that afternoon. The air smelled fresh and crisp with the scents of autumn.

  Lifting her hand, she stared at it. Her sensations were still curiously deadened, as if she no longer quite fit in this body, as if part of her were gone. Maybe the doctor had cut out the part that felt things so sharply, like the rough weave of a linen jacket or the cool moisture of ice, the part that burned with the need for vengeance.

  Her life seemed unreal, a video game where she saw the action but was removed from all pain and sensation, where she was waiting for the other shoe to drop and the action to begin.

  Dr. Fletcher had assured her that the numbness would pass, that she’d be normal. She sipped the glass of iced green tea and leaned back, letting the tart liquid laced with honey trickle over her tongue and down her parched throat.

  With a grimace, she put the glass back down on the glass table next to her. Everything tasted funny. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably, reminding her of the sickening garlic taste that had filled her mouth when the anesthesiologist asked her to count backwards.

  “Where be your lad?” A man’s deep voice broke the silence.

  She glanced up, noticing that as she sat there, sipping her tea and daydreaming, evening had slid unnoticed into night. The silhouette of a man, stocky and round-headed, stood at the far corner of the porch.

  “He just stepped inside,” she lied, not knowing where Kethan was. From the corner of her eye she noticed there was no dark silhouette in the kitchen window. For once, Kethan had abandoned his post.

  She was alone except for the cat. Another glance told her that the cat had disappeared, too.

  Martyn Sutton glided closer, a grin on his cherub-cheeked face, his head cocked to one side. Despite his “hail fellow, well met” appearance, he managed to exude something darker and far more dangerous, and he maximized the impact by casually fiddling with a butterfly knife.

  “Just inside, eh? I’m surprised you’re not screaming for him, then.” His gaze casually ran over her, noting the soft blanket draped over her knees, the book in her lap, her glass of tea, and most damning of all, the bottle of pain medication on the table at her side. “Where be your whip? Surely you’ve not left that inside, too?”

  “I don’t need it.” The knife she’d used to cut her sandwich in half lay on the edge of her plate. Kethan had broken out the fine china and silver in honor of her successful surgery, so the knife was silver.

  But it rested on the floor next to her. She let her arm fall to the side in a casual, lazy gesture and picked it up. It was a pathetic, dull blade but it comforted her to hold the solid handle against the palm of her hand.

  She wouldn’t go easy into the soft goodnight.

  Gripping the knife, she slid it into her lap under the blanket.

  His eyes glinted as if he’d noticed and was amused by her actions. “Nay, lass, always have your weapons handy. ‘Tis unhealthy to be out on a night like this. Alone.”

  “I’m safe enough. There’s the truce, and you’re the one who wanted it, aren’t you?”

  “And you’re the one preventing it.” He advanced until he stood a foot away from the end of the lounger.

  She could feel the pull of his power, probing for a weakness, a way to lull her into carelessness. “I’m only trying to protect humans, children like Kathy Sherman.”

  “And I were giving us peace—”

  “Peace to kill humans.”

  “Not so.” He gazed at her, his eyes glowing red. “None of us chose this life—”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “Aye, you’re a sharp-tongued shrew. I pity poor Kethan. Howsomever, I’ve told naught but the truth. Another made us what we be, destroyed us all at Roanoke. He made the men his servants and slew the women. I’ve had no moment’s peace since.”

  “Oh, poor little vampire—”

  “And it must end. I’ll see it end.” He reached toward her.

  Her sluggish, drugged body felt trapped against the flimsy back of the chair. The medication made everything unreal, slow, but she managed to kick off the blanket. She half-fell off the lounger. Even the wooden deck felt odd against her palms, as if the boards ought to feel rougher and grittier than they did.

  The lack of sensation almost panicked her. What if she lost the feeling in her hands permanently? She had no time, however, to dwell on the terrifying thought.

  “Quicksilver?” Kethan called, coming through the French doors onto the porch.

  “Kethan,” her voice rasped with relief.

  Muscles shaking, she collapsed against the edge of the lounger. It scraped over the boards before she could grab the armrest. A sharp, shooting pain radiated through her skull.

  Looking at Kethan, outlined in the light spilling from the house, hurt her eyes. She grabbed the bottle of pills and clumsily extracted one, shoving it into her mouth and sucking it down with a cold mouthful of tea.

  “What happened?” He slipped a hand under her arm and helped her back onto the cushioned seat. “Martyn, what are you doing here?”

  “We heard your lady had taken ill. I came to wish her well and ensure those Spaniard bastards bring her no harm.” His mouth twisted over the last words, sugar-coating his partial lie with the truth about his feelings over his rivals.

  “I appreciate that.” Kethan inclined his head in a gesture that seemed to indicate he’d heard what Martyn had said but didn’t necessarily believe him.

  After a brief, uncomfortable silence, the vampire raised both hands, palms upward in a gesture of supplication. “Oh, aye. Well, I’d best be gone, then.” His red-tinged eyes focused on Quicksilver. “And you’d best stay inside after dark, my girl. Leastways until you’ve regained your strength. There’s them about who’re not to be trusted.”

  “Sure.” Quicksilver breathed, closing her eyes and wishing both men would jump into the nearest lake and leave her alone. She’d waited too long to take the medicine. Now she suffered the knowledge that she’d pay the penalty of thirty tormented minutes before feeling the first warm touch of relief.

  Sometime, it was just stupid to be strong.

  A moment later, she felt Kethan’s hand press her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Is he gone?”

  “Yes. What happened? What was he really doing here?”

  “Suspicious?” she smiled, although she kept her eyes shut. The pain seemed less intense that way. “And here I thought you trusted Sutton.”

  “I trust him to act in his own self-interest.”

  “Then—oh, never mind. I know. You’re going to find the solution that is in his self-interest and ours. Great. Super. I can hardly wait.” The last few words came out in a shaky whisper, the best she could manage with the pounding at the base of her skull.

  Without commenting, he slid an arm under her knees and another behind her back. Moving with immense care, he carried her back into the house, using her feet to swing the door shut behind them.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “I had the sandwich you made me,” she said, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and tired. “I hate this.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I can tell.”

  “I’m a bitch, aren’t I?”

  “No. You’re just having a difficult time. It’ll pass.”

  “Vampires have it easier. They just do what they want, and if you don’t like it, tough. They don’t worry about political correctness or if anyone likes them. Hell, they probably prefer it if no one likes them.”

  Laying her on her bed, Kethan briefly touched her forehead. “Have you taken your antibiotics? Y
ou feel warm.”

  “Yes, Mommy.” She turned onto her side, curling around her pillow. The worn cotton felt cool and soft against her cheek.

  “You’ve gone through a bad patch, give yourself a break. You’ve responded with more courage than most men or women could summon in a thousand lifetimes, but right now, you need to rest. Sleep.”

  “It’s not over, is it?” The pills made waves of over-heated drowsiness fill her. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone for a few days? She just wanted to sleep….

  “No.”

  She remembered Sutton and forced herself to ask, “Do you think he knows the device is gone?” She’d confused matters. She shook her head. “I mean, my parents. They can’t control me anymore. Do they know?”

  “I’m sure they don’t.”

  She didn’t believe him. Maybe it didn’t matter if she could just get an hour of sleep. She frowned and concentrated. “What was inside it? The device? You never told me.”

  “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She lifted her head drowsily. A nervous thrumming in her chest made her focus on Kethan, even though her blood had turned to some thick, hot syrup within her, melting her muscles. “Are they going to come back? My parents? Come here?”

  “Not tonight. Martyn may not be your best friend, but he ordered his clan to watch over the house. They aren’t going to let anyone else come near. Not tonight.”

  “That’s good,” she murmured. “At least, he’s good for something.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It seemed Kethan was right. Sutton’s vampires did a fairly competent job and kept other predators away from the townhouse so Quicksilver was able to recover in relative safety. After a week, she felt almost normal.

  She studied Kethan as she pushed away her half-eaten dinner of shrimp shish-kabob and rice. The meal might have been more satisfying if he’d stop treating her like his bone china plates.

  Frustrated, she did her best to call Kethan’s attention to other, far more satisfying needs.

  His breathing had deepened satisfactorily when she brushed against him as she set the table, and his eyes grew dark when she slowly licked the teriyaki sauce off lovingly, longingly, one finger at a time, after plucking a particularly plump shrimp off the skewer. He seemed bent on pretending she was his slightly mad maiden aunt visiting him for a few days. He brusquely handed her another cup of tea and asked if she needed a damp towel to wipe off her hands.

  Aggravated, she tried a few moves she’d seen during a long, frustrating week of watching “Cooking with Ray and Bob.” Kethan refused to break down enough to give her more than a brief peck on the cheek when they went to bed in separate rooms.

  She felt as if she were slowly going insane. Her entire body itched with the need for contact, preferably with Kethan.

  She was still plotting a new assault when the ting of the mellow doorbell drifted down the hallway. She jumped, her heart fluttering, but Kethan made it to the door before she could.

  “Let me—” She tried to slide past him, deliberately pressing her breasts against his arm.

  He smiled and thrust out his arm to prevent her from touching the doorknob although the gesture meant his arm brushed the underside of her breasts even more firmly. She stepped back, suspecting—demoralizing though it might be—that he had the morally pure motive of protecting her from whoever stood outside, rather than a desperate desire to grab a feel.

  When he opened the door, he thrust her even farther behind him.

  She peered over his shoulder. Her mother and father stood outside, their fair heads glimmering under the golden glow of the porch light.

  “I don’t want to see them,” she whispered, casting another quick look around Kethan’s broad shoulder.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Bankes,” he greeted them, but blocked the door with his body. “What a surprise.”

  “We’d like to see our daughter, if you don’t mind.” Her father’s face grew pinched with disapproval as his gaze went from Kethan to Quicksilver.

  “This may not be a good time. Give me a minute.” He eased the door partially closed and faced her.

  “Send them away.” Her hands shook as she rubbed her arms. She didn’t want to see them. Despite realizing she ought to know better, she felt betrayed and hollow. Underneath it all ran the fear that if Kethan spoke to them, they’d tell him about her, about whatever it was that made her so unlovable. Then he’d end up despising her, just like they did.

  No, it’s not true, part of her asserted. He loves you. How can you be sure? You thought your parents loved you, too. She rubbed her arms. A cold draft brushed her back.

  “Perhaps you should talk to them,” he said. “Show them you’re not afraid.”

  “But I’m not afraid.” Liar.

  “Yes, but I want them to wonder about you. I want them to think maybe they can’t control you after all.”

  “That I’m not a psycho, you mean?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “Not that you were ever a psycho, you know.”

  She shrugged. “So how am I going to prove I’m not crazy?”

  “Play nice.” His mouth twitched. “Don’t kill any vampires, including them.”

  “Very funny. I haven’t killed a vampire in weeks.” She grimaced. “In fact, if he wasn’t such Neanderthal, I’d even admit Sutton was almost human.”

  “Right.” Kethan chuckled at her admission. “So now you’re friends?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But I’m not planning on killing him the next time we meet. I’m not just saying that because I’m mellow from painkillers.”

  “Great progress, to be sure.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckle in a careless gesture of tenderness that made her lean closer to him, aching with need. “So let’s show them you’re in control.”

  “I don’t know that that’s such a good idea.” She watched his mouth, wishing they were alone and doing something other than talking. Then, the thought of her parents waiting on the other side of the door sent a shiver through her. “Maybe I should try to get rid of them, instead. It would make Sutton happy”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me!” Her mother pushed the door open and stepped closer, slipping one delicate foot halfway over the threshold. “We simply came to talk to our daughter and discover where the meeting will be held.”

  “Meeting?” Kethan studied her.

  “Tonight. Father Donatello indicated there’d be a meeting. Tonight.” Her father tried to catch her gaze.

  She stepped behind Kethan and stared at his shoulders covered by a vast expanse of white cotton. The back of his shirt was a little wrinkled, and she smoothed it before pressing her check against his shoulder blade. She remembered him at dinner, the top button of his shirt undone, exposing a triangle of warm flesh. She slipped her cold hands around his waist, glad he stood between her and the darkness outside the door. Snuggling her cheek against his back, she soaked in his strength, breathing deeply.

  Go away! She flung her thoughts at the emptiness of her parents’ minds.

  “Later,” Kethan said cryptically. “I’ll let you know, later.”

  Her mother frowned and tapped her foot, a sure sign of frustration. “There’s no need for this ridiculous secrecy. Where is it to be held?”

  Under her cheek, Quicksilver felt Kethan’s back stiffen. Her head snapped up. “Later? What do you mean ‘you’ll tell them later’? You’re planning on sneaking out without me, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want to discuss it with them. Isn’t it? You don’t want me to know.”

  “You need to rest—”

  “Yakking all night isn’t that strenuous. I’m going.”

  “No. You’re going to stay here and rest.”

  “Excuse me—” her mother interrupted.

  “Oh, shut up will you?” Quicksilver said impatiently.

  “Allison!” Her father’s simmering voice started to boil with fury.

  “The Orchard Conference Center. In one hour
.” Kethan shut the door in their startled faces.

  “I’m going,” she said.

  “You’re not completely healed—”

  “This body’s as good as it gets.”

  “For God’s sake—”

  “No. For my sake, please. I need to do this. I need to see if I can do it. Please.”

  He didn’t want to allow her to accompany him. She could see it in the darkness in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders, but he nodded. Despite his agreement, trusting soul that she was, she didn’t let him out of her sight for the next few hours. She was convinced he’d leave her behind, given the opportunity.

  When they got into the car an hour later, he sat behind the steering wheel and examined her for a minute. “There’ll be mayhem enough without any human contributions. Just…be there.”

  “And back you up? I can do that,” she agreed quickly. Her pulse raced as she gazed into his eyes. Squeezing her icy hands between her crossed arms and chest, she glanced past his shoulder. Wind tossed dead leaves across the deserted street and shook the car with icy bursts. “I should bring my whips, though. What if the talks break down?”

  “No ‘what ifs.’” He looped his heavy arm across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze before he started the car. “No weapons.”

  “I don’t know. That doesn’t sound smart.”

  “We’re just talking. You’ll be asleep in five minutes. Trust me.”

  “Yeah, right.” She settled into her seat. When she caught her hand creeping up to touch the throbbing scar at the base of her skull, she discretely pulled the pill bottle out of her purse. Choking down a tablet dry left her mouth gritty, but it was better than allowing the incipient ache to take hold.

  One thing she had learned was that pain made her temper flare. Tonight, it would be better if she were mellow. Pharmaceutical warmth was just starting to spread through her veins when Kethan helped her out of the car. One hand on her elbow, he deftly steered her through the hallway and into the conference room, the same room they’d used before.