by Adams, Cat
and
gorgeous
architectural details. It probably wasn’t
old enough or important enough to
qualify for the historical society mission
trail, and it was too small and outdated
for a modern congregation. The church
and grounds were surrounded by a gated
wall; as we drew up to the gate, I
spotted a parking area on the east side
and a small cemetery on the west. I
wondered who had been buried there—
perhaps the very first missionaries
stationed there?
“Is it decommissioned?” I was
wondering if the place still qualified as
holy ground.
“It’s in the process,” she said with a
smile. “But even after the paperwork’s
done, this place has seen years and years
of daily masses and prayers of the
faithful. I’ve been told by a church
authority that the prayers have sunk into
the stone itself.”
Wow. I whistled as she slowed the
SUV. “It’ll probably take a hundred
years for that kind of protection to wear
down.” Emma would be safe—safe from
vampires and demons. It wouldn’t be
anathema to werewolves, but that was a
good thing, since her brother, Kevin,
turned into a wolf with the full moon.
“Welcome
to
my
Fortress
of
Solitude,” Emma quipped. Hitting the
button on the garage-door opener she’d
clipped to her sun visor rolled back a
gate that looked like wrought iron, but
was probably heavy-duty, spelled silver
steel. There was barely enough time for
her rear bumper to clear the perimeter
before the gate began moving back into
place. And that perimeter! As we
crossed it, the magic hit my senses like a
ripsaw, making me yelp in unexpected
pain. I’ve been able to sense the magical
perimeters around most buildings for a
while now. Most barriers are no big
deal. The better ones are a little
uncomfortable. But this … wow … and
OW.
“Damn, girl, who did your spell
work?”
“Kevin had somebody do it. It’s
seriously over the top, right? The wards
aren’t lethal, but only because I
insisted.” She shook her head.
I paused, trying to come up with a
tactful way to ask a very personal
question. Kevin had been my friend.
Maybe he still is. We’ve had our issues,
but I still care about him. He’s a tough
SOB, but sometimes even tough isn’t
enough. Things happened to him that
nobody should have to go through. It left
him with a bad case of post-traumatic
stress disorder. Paranoia was just one of
his issues. “Is he getting therapy?”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure how much it’s
helping.” She stopped the car. I saw
tears in her eyes as she turned to me.
“I’m really worried about him, Celia,
but I just don’t know what to do. He’s
been through so much. Most of it he can’t
or won’t talk about, even to a therapist. I
want to help, but I have no clue how.”
The unfortunate truth was that there
probably wasn’t a lot we could do other
than be there for him and be as
supportive of him as we knew how to
be. Of course in my case, being
supportive might actually be better
accomplished by my absence. How
much did that suck?
I opened my mouth to say as much, but
she held up a hand to stop me. “Don’t.
Just … don’t. It isn’t your fault. None of
it is.”
Then why did it feel like it was?
“Celia, he was in black ops. No
matter how bad the crap you’re involved
in gets, none of it is as bad as what he
got into on his own. Remember, he was
going on missions with Jones and the
others for a decade before he even met
you. He’s seen things that would put the
rest of us in the psycho ward. And you
weren’t the one that got him put in the
zoo. You’re the one who got him out.”
“The zoo” was what most folks called
the jail for werewolves and other
preternatural types. It had been a really
high-tech, highly spelled installation out
in the desert. Had been, until it was
taken over by demons. Now it was a
layer of glass and blasted earth.
I didn’t know what to say, so I
changed the subject. “So, how did you
find this place?”
She blushed and I just knew there was
more to it than she was willing to tell.
Instead, she backed the SUV into the
spot closest to the front walkway. “Wait
till you see the inside. Kevin’s been
helping me renovate. Some of the stuff
he’s installed is just so cool. ”
“I
don’t
doubt
it.”
Kevin’s
background has given him access to all
the best toys. Besides which, he works
in IT when he isn’t running around being
a soldier of fortune. He’s a serious geek
with major skills in all sorts of areas.
We wrangled the slab of glass from
the back with me holding most of the
weight. Emma set down her end of the
mirror and pressed her palm against a
recessed reader. When a button flashed
green, she typed a five-digit code onto
the keypad. I heard the click of the locks
opening.
She pushed the door open, and we
carried the mirror inside and set it down
in the entryway. I took another step, into
Emma’s new private domain.
It was gorgeous. The décor was the
perfect marriage of tech and classic
design. All but one of the stained-glass
windows had been replaced with
frosted, so the open main area shone
with light. The remaining stained-glass
pane sent patterns of color across
planked
wood
floors
that
were
beautifully rustic. It felt wonderful;
peaceful, positive energy just seemed to
emanate from the place.
“Oh, Emma.” The intonation of my
words made her smile broaden.
“You like it?” she asked eagerly,
practically hopping from foot to foot
with excitement.
All I could do was make an
incredulous noise and nod. I finally
found my voice as my eyes danced over
the detailed architecture around the top
of the wall. “Are you kidding? I love it.
Give me the tour.”
The more she showed me around, the
stranger something seemed. Everywhere
she mentioned a wall had been repaired
or d
amaged door frame had been
replaced, I noticed a particular pattern to
the placement of the nails. Finally, I
couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer.
“Is Kevin the only person who’s been
helping you with the renovation?”
She blushed and turned away. It was a
simple question and had she simply
answered it, I wouldn’t have thought any
more about it. But her reaction made it
clear to me that she was getting
construction help from Matteo DeLuca,
one of Bruno’s brothers. He’s a Catholic
priest and my guess was that he’d helped
her find the church in the first place.
He’s performed both of my exorcisms,
so he would understand why it was
important that Emma be on holy ground.
He had also helped Bruno and me
work on my beach house after a spell
went awry and damaged the floor. I’d
noticed that he put in the nails in a
slightly zigzag pattern that he swore he’d
learned from an old book. He said that
old houses stood so long because the
nails weren’t hammered in right in a row
so they never split the planks. The
pattern was very distinctive and easily
recognizable.
But it was her reaction that I found
even more interesting. It gave her away
and was the reason why she couldn’t
answer me directly. If Matty was in
regular orders, his helping her wouldn’t
be a problem. Regular priests are able to
have relationships and get married. But
the militant orders have always required
vows of celibacy.…
“You are kidding! You and Matty? O-
M-G!”
Her red cheeks remained. “We
haven’t told anyone yet. They can’t
approve his transfer to regular duty until
after he becomes Bishop. Until then…”
“He has to remain celibate,” I finished
for her. “Bummer.”
“Actually, it’s okay.” She smiled and
it lit up her face. Oh, she was so gone
for this guy. It made me happy. Matty is
a great guy. But oh Lord, Mama DeLuca
would have a fit. Emma’s no more her
idea of the perfect daughter-in-law than I
am, and Isabella DeLuca is a force to be
reckoned with.
I raised my brows, not speaking my
concerns. But she just continued to
smile.
“Really. He’s worth the wait.
Besides, it’s given us the chance to get
to know each other better, to not rush
into anything. Between him and Bruno,
I’ve heard so much about the family that
I feel like I’ll be able to recognize
everyone once we meet.”
If she was happy, I was happy for her.
But it felt a little weird that everyone
was so happy when I was so … well,
miserable. Why couldn’t I be happy with
what I had?
All told, my visit with Emma was
exactly what I needed after the stress of
the day. She was so content and the
house gave off such good vibes that I felt
completely relaxed and at peace with the
world as we drove back to campus.
I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
6
“Have fun tonight,” Emma teased as I
climbed out of the SUV near La Cocina.
I was going to retrieve my car and head
for Bruno’s, and Emma was going back
to the office. She hadn’t bothered to pull
into the restaurant’s parking lot—it was
practically bumper-to-bumper in there
and there was no reason for her to waste
time to get me a few feet closer to my
car.
“Oh, I fully intend to.” My answering
grin was probably a little bit wicked. I
was really looking forward to an
evening with Bruno. And if that went
well, I was looking forward to an
excellent night with Bruno. “I’ll call you
tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I opened my parasol as I got out of the
car, then slammed the door and went
around the front of the vehicle to cross
the street. I had been well trained in my
youth; now I looked both ways, then took
advantage of a break in traffic to start
across the busy street.
I heard an engine revving and the
squeal of tires, and smelled rubber
burning against hot asphalt. Even though
I couldn’t see the car’s grille past the
parasol that kept the sun from scorching
my skin, thankfully my vampire reflexes
had kicked in at the first growl of the
motor. I dove for the far curb with
everything I had. Normally that would be
enough, since I can jump really fast and
far with my enhanced muscles and most
drivers steer away from people in the
middle of the street.
But this guy corrected, making it very
clear it was intentional. My body was
still airborne when the car hit me—
probably the only reason I wasn’t badly
hurt. I landed on the hood and rolled off
past the driver’s side window, catching
a glimpse of the man at the wheel before
falling to the street. The vehicle sped
off.
Ironically, I landed facedown on the
white pedestrian stick figure in the
crosswalk. Everything hurt. A lot. And I
was pissed off.
Because I knew who had hit me.
“Oh my God! Celia, are you all
right?” Emma jumped out of the SUV
and rushed up as other cars swerved
around me. No one stopped, of course.
“I’m okay,” I assured her as I pulled
myself slowly to my feet, surveying the
damage. Thankfully, I didn’t seem to
have any broken bones. A quick tongue
survey of my mouth revealed I’d
managed not to lose any teeth, although
one fang had cut the inside of my lip.
Blood brings out the vampire in me
quicker than almost anything. The smell,
unmistakable copper and salt; the taste.
Both my rage and my newfound hunger
made me want to ignore my human
nature and rip into the woman standing
beside me. I could hear the rapid beat of
her heart, smell the sweat of her fear.
Emma is my friend. She is not food. And
I am not a fucking bat.
I clenched my fists so hard that my
nails dug into flesh. My exposed skin
was starting to singe—I could smell it
burning. I embraced the pain, using it to
home in on my humanity. My voice was
still a little rough when I asked, “Did
you get the plate number?”
I opened my eyes to see her blushing
furiously. I guess not. “It was so fast. ”
Digging the cell phone from her
oversized bag, she said, “I’ll call nine-
one-one.”
I stopped her with a hand on
her
wrist. “Don’t.”
Overhead, seagulls were swooping
and cawing, obviously upset. I tried to
think calming vibes at them. It didn’t
work.
“What do you mean, ‘don’t’?” Emma
stepped back, angry and offended. She
looked a little like an avenging angel,
given her air of righteous indignation
and her cloud of dark golden hair
blowing in the breeze. “It was a
deliberate hit-and-run. Whoever that
was tried to kill you. We have to call the
police.”
When I trusted myself to sound calm I
answered her, lying smoothly so she
didn’t go ballistic. “Emma, it won’t do
any good. He’s long gone. I can’t
describe the car or the driver. You don’t
have the plate number.” I shrugged. “The
last thing I need is more trouble with the
police. Please, just let it go.”
I could tell she didn’t want to listen.
But she put her phone away, lips pressed
into a thin line of disapproval, then
strode over to where I’d dropped my
purse, her sensible heels clicking
sharply against the concrete sidewalk.
“You realize you’re insane?” she said
as she returned and handed me my bag.
“Emma—.” My voice held a note of
warning. I love Emma, I really do. But I
was stressed, I was angry, and the last
thing I needed was a lecture.
She gave me a long look through
narrowed eyes before lifting a hand in a
gesture of reluctant surrender. “Fine, but
don’t expect me to like it.” She would
like it less if she knew I was lying a
little. I’d gotten a good look at the
driver. Emma added, “Let’s get inside.
You need food. You’re starting to
glow.”
Wel l , hell. That wasn’t good. I’ve
gotten a lot more control of my inner bat
recently, but stress and physical exertion
aren’t helpful. I should probably eat
something. Not too much; I didn’t want
to ruin my appetite for dinner. Maybe
just one of the special Sunset Smoothies
La Cocina makes just for me. “I thought
you needed to get back to the office and
grade papers?”
“Screw it. They can wait another day.
This is important. Go see if you can get
us a table while I park the car.”
There weren’t any tables. In fact, the
press of people was such that I had to
take refuge on the patio and order my
Sunset Smoothie to go. Better to leave,
before people started looking like
bloodsicles. Besides, I wanted a long
hot bath and plenty of time to primp for