THE woman was twenty-five, but her green eyes looked older. She was tall and leggy in a way that reminded Ben that the Vikings really got around back in the day. Her pale face was pretty and freckled. Blond hair whipped across her face from the sea breeze as she crossed the narrow street to the cafe, ducking in just before the rain came down. She paused at the door, looking for him. Ben looked up from the phone held in his hand, nodding at her over his steaming cup of coffee. Just another random student staring at his mobile phone and reading his Twitter feed in the bustling university town of Saint Andrews.
She spotted him and walked over, a set of keys clutched in her hand.
Excellent.
Ben looked around, but no one noticed the girl. The people she passed barely looked up.
People were so easy to distract now; all they did was look at their phones. Ben figured the only person who’d looked him in the face since he walked in the door was the woman who took his order at the counter.
Annoying? A little. But it made it much harder for a vampire looking for him to question humans later.
Thanks, technology.
The girl was named Susan. She was a student at the university and the sister of one of Max’s day-people. She sat down in the chair across from him and tried to tuck her hair back into a bun. She wasn’t too successful.
“Can I get you a coffee?” Ben asked.
“No thanks.”
Ben had taken the train up the coast and stayed at a hotel in the town center after taking a cab into town. Classes were still in session, so the streets were busy and businesses were full. He’d made no secret of his presence in the city—if anyone was looking for him, they could find him—but he’d been wary about renting a car. He didn’t mind people—okay, René—knowing he was in Saint Andrews, but he didn’t want anyone to know what kind of car he was driving.
That was were Susan came in.
“The car is not mine. It’s my neighbor’s, and I sang her a story about my desperate and pitiful young American friend.” Susan kept her hands and the keys folded on her lap. “So if you’re trouble and don’t bring the car back, Max and Cathy will know. The money you’re paying me isn’t going to cover the cost of a new car, even if it is just a Corsa.”
He smiled. “You’re telling me you haven’t already called them?”
“Maybe.”
“If you didn’t, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”
“Jarod asked Max. He vouched for you.”
“What else did he ask?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Do you think we’re new? The less I know, the better. I don’t even want to know your name. I want my money and for you to return the car by next week.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not a shitty American driver, are you?”
“Of course I’m not a shitty American driver.” He reached his hand out, and she put the keys in it. “Kind of a shit British driver though. Whole thing about the wheel being on the wrong side of the car, you know?”
Susan stood. “Don’t be an arse. Just because you know important people doesn’t mean your blood doesn’t run as easily as any other human’s.”
He held out an envelope that she grabbed and stuffed in her messenger bag. “All you need to do is keep quiet and pretend you never saw me,” he said. “The car will be back in its parking spot in a week. And tell your friend thanks. Just don’t use my name.”
“Handy.” She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and raised her hood. “As I don’t know your name. Don’t crash the car, nameless American.”
Ben couldn’t help but like her. “Is this that rumored Highland hospitality?”
She curled her lip. “Does it look like we’re in the Highlands to you?”
Without another word, she turned and walked out the door. The wind was so strong it took some leaning to push it open. Then Susan was out the door, and Ben had a car.
And coffee.
Glancing at the downpour happening outside, he decided he had enough time to finish the coffee.
✕
FIVE days later, he’d secured a completely different vehicle, an empty vacation cottage nearer the probable site, and all the supplies he’d need for a prolonged hunt. Nothing was under his name. Most of the reservations had been made over the phone. Supplies had been ordered online and delivered to the house. There was a small barn at the rear of the cottage that would work for storing the car. Ben would be working on foot, and he’d be working during the day.
He didn’t care what Tenzin thought. Daylight searching was imperative.
He took the train back to Edinburgh after leaving the car parked where he’d promised Susan. The old Jeep had been stored at the cottage. He’d be able to take a cab or walk from the Leuchars train station depending on the weather.
By his estimation, the search for Brennus’s gold should take three days in the field. He hadn’t seen a hint of René Dupont anywhere around Saint Andrews, but that meant little. Ben had been making an effort to show up at the normal tourist sites in town and making himself known as a regular at a number of markets and cafes. If René was following him, Ben wanted to be the one placing the bread crumbs.
The announcer’s voice woke him to the approaching station. “Next station, Haymarket.”
Ben roused himself from a light nap and realized he’d be getting into the city just after dark. He knew Tenzin barely slept. What was René’s habit? Most older vampires didn’t need a full twelve hours of sleep a day, but most did sleep. This time of year, vampires had fifteen full hours of darkness to play with. Ben had only nine hours of light.
Why had he planned this trip for the winter? The lack of tourists and the busyness of the university town suddenly seemed to pale in comparison to the luxurious hours of daylight—and dry weather—he would have had available during a Scottish summer.
Of course, it also meant he had Tenzin as a resource with longer nights. And since Tenzin did not sleep, winter meant a happier and less housebound partner.
He gathered his backpack and exited the train at Waverley station. A crowd of evening commuters barely let him pass by before they crowded on the train heading north out of the city and toward Dundee. Unsurprisingly, it was raining. He lifted the hood on his jacket, tucked his phone in the inside pocket, and walked up the hill and toward the flat where he hoped some food would mysteriously appear.
Up the steps and up the hill. Dodging loitering tourists, brisk businessmen, and the ever present pipers on the Royal Mile, he trudged up the damp street toward the dark shelter of the north passage to James Court. He ducked in and entered the code for the doorway, pulling open the heavy door and letting it close behind him.
Ben let out a breath. Silence.
The cold stone walls blocked out the bustle of people and automobiles, pipers and vendors.
As he walked up the old spiral stairs, he heard a sound he hadn’t been expecting.
Laughter.
Male laughter.
The laughter went silent as he approached the door. Quiet shuffling. His key went in the lock.
Ben walked in with his hand on his knife. When he saw who Tenzin was entertaining, he felt no urge to remove his hand, but he did have to restrain himself from pulling the blade.
Tenzin had been cooking again. But this time her guest was René Dupont.
Chapter Five
WELL, THIS SHOULD BE INTERESTING.
Tenzin set down her spoon and wondered just how wise her Benjamin had grown.
“You’re back!” she said brightly.
“I am.” His face was… not so bright.
But that was fine. He needed to scratch a bit of the brightness off if he wanted to survive in the immortal world.
“René found our flat,” she said.
“I can see that.”
“I invited him for dinner.”
Ben set his messenger bag down on the armchair and leaned his shoulder against the large stone chimney on the opposite side of the room. “You invited hi
m for dinner,” he said. “Were you that hard up to find fresh blood?”
René’s mouth turned up at the corner. “Witty.”
“Curious,” Ben said.
“I am no vampire’s meal.”
“Bet you wish you were,” Ben said. “Why are you in my flat?”
“I understood I was invited.”
“Not by me.”
Tenzin tried not to roll her eyes at the posturing. They were both so young. They were like two roosters puffing out their chests. Obviously she needed to intervene before the spurs came out. “I invited René to our flat when I found him feeding—very indiscreetly, I might add—in the pub where we heard the loud music.”
Ben said, “That could literally be any pub in the surrounding area. You have told me nothing.”
“I invited him here”—she ignored his boring disapproval and continued—“so we could have an honest discussion about the Sanguine Raptor.”
René looked disappointed, though his smile hid it well. Ben looked quietly outraged.
“Why?” Ben asked.
“Because he wants it.” Tenzin stepped between Ben and René. “Look at him,” she said to Ben. “He’s clearly not a swordsman. Watch the way he moves; he has no sense of balance. He’d be pathetic with a blade.”
René stood and began cursing at her in quiet French, but Tenzin put a hand on his chest and shoved him back in the chair.
“So he doesn’t want the blade for himself,” she continued. “He wants it as treasure. You heard him speaking with Gemma. He’s not sentimental, even with his immortal clan. Which means he has a buyer for the treasure. Which means we should find out who they are and see if we can make a deal with them.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I mean, I’m fairly sure I know who it is already, but I wanted to confirm.”
René curled his lip. “I changed my mind. I don’t find you charming at all.”
“Yes, you do.” Tenzin smiled. “You don’t want to, but you do. It’s the power.”
His silent glare said everything Tenzin wanted.
She knew there were always some vampires, both male and female, who were drawn to her because of her age and elemental strength. It was like a magnet. For some, the attraction was pure instinct. For others, it was calculation. Either way, it taught her to be circumspect.
She turned back to Ben. “If you want me to kick him out, I can. But I made enough for three, so it’s up to you.”
“No.” René stood and smoothed the front of his jacket. “It is up to me. You disappoint me, Tenzin.”
“You wound me, René.”
A smile forced itself to his lips, and Tenzin changed her opinion of him in an instant. René was more complicated than she’d initially judged. He was attracted to her, but it wasn’t calculation. Or not entirely. Despite her suspicions, she liked him a little.
“I see your game,” he said quietly. “I decide not to play it.”
“Come now.” Tenzin walked over and flicked a minuscule piece of lint off his shoulder. “You were playing a game too.”
“I suspected you would be a horrible liar,” René said. “And you are.”
“I know,” Tenzin said, making her eyes as wide as possible. “Which is why you should probably practice with a blade more. You favor your left side.”
“You think?” The Frenchman wrapped his cashmere scarf around his neck and shrugged on his coat. “Au revoir, ma petite,” he said. “We will meet again.” He glanced at Ben. “Tell your human his clumsy attempts to mislead me were not successful.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” she said. “Good-bye.”
Without a backward glance, he walked to the door and left the flat. Tenzin waited until the heavy metal door to the passageway swung shut.
“Well, at least he’s not one of those villains who always has to have the last word,” Tenzin said. “Those are so annoying.”
“Did you find out what you wanted?” Ben slid his hunting knife back in its sheath and walked to the counter. “And did you really need to invite him into our flat?”
She sprawled on the couch. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
“I’m making tea. It’s freezing out there. Do you want some?”
“Please.”
Ben filled the kettle and set it on the stove before he turned around and leaned his hip against the counter. She could see the smile flirting at the corner of his mouth. “So you’re a bad liar, huh?”
“Pathetic. Didn’t you know that?”
“Ha!” Ben shook his head and let the smile break through. “Did you find what you wanted?”
“No, but I will. He’ll contact whoever hired him, and I’ll figure out who it is.” Tenzin floated from the couch and over to the windows. She glanced outside before she closed the heavy wooden shutters. They blocked out the lovely twinkling lights from the streetlamps and signs, but they helped keep the flat warm too. Buildings of this age were chilly in the best weather. In the damp cold, they could be miserable.
“And his threat about following me?” Ben asked.
“Empty. I was tracking him since nightfall. He hasn’t left the city and he can’t fly. The most he got was that you took a train to Saint Andrews.”
Ben smiled. “Good.”
“Are you set up wherever you need to be?”
He nodded. “You staying around here for a couple of days?”
“I want to watch the Frenchman for a few more nights. He reacted too perfectly. I’m either getting more psychic, he’s really that predictable, or there’s something we’re not seeing. He’s not dumb. He’s smart, and he’s played this game longer than we have. We shouldn’t underestimate him.”
The kettle whistled and Ben filled the teapot. “Fine. I’ll be working during the day anyway. You won’t be able to help. Might as well stay around here and see what he’s up to.”
She smiled. “And that’s all you’re giving me about your brilliant plan?”
“Hey, turnabout’s fair play.” He winked at her and grabbed two mugs for tea. “It’s not like you’ve been Miss Let’s Share All the Details in the past.”
“Does this mean I’m going to get trapped on a submarine crossing the ocean back to New York?”
“If everything goes according to plan? Yes.”
“Good to know you’ve worked through your issues on that,” she said in Chinese.
He answered in kind, setting a pot of tea on the table. “Be quiet and drink your tea, you wide-eyed innocent.”
✕
“THIS?” Two nights later, she was staring at… She didn’t know what it was, exactly. All she knew was that it made the most alarming noise when she approached it. “What is this? This is your brilliant plan?”
Ben tromped into the cottage, mud up to his knees, bundled in plaid, and clearly in a foul mood. “Did I ask you? Give me a minute to get warm before you start interrogating me.”
“What is it?”
He hung the contraption on a hook by the garden door as he sat and tried to remove his mud-encrusted rubber boots. “That is the Garrett ATX metal detector,” he said, yanking off one boot. “Waterproof. Thirteen different sensitivity levels. Seven hundred thirty pulses per second.”
Tenzin’s mouth dropped open. “You’re using a… a metal detector? To search for one of the largest caches of gold in immortal history?”
“The size of the cache is only rumors.” He yanked off the second boot. “And yes. I’m using a metal detector. It worked in Staffordshire.”
“That was an exception, not a winning business breakthrough.”
He leaned against the wall, and Tenzin could see how tired he was. “Tiny, I’m exhausted. I’m not getting into this with you tonight. What did you expect me to do? Hire a friendly neighborhood earth vampire to walk the grid with me?”
“Yes, because that is an excellent idea. Unlike a metal detector, which is not.”
He straightened and stretched his shoulders back. “No.”
“Why not
?”
Ben said, “First, I’d have to work at night, making me more conspicuous to vampires. Second, I’d have to tell someone else the treasure is here—”
“Probably here.”
“Definitely here.” The first smile broke through his exhaustion. “Go look in the bread box, Tiny.”
Tenzin walked over to the small kitchen and opened the wooden box where she smelled stale bread.
“See the teacup in there with all the loose American change?”
She found the teacup. “And?”
“Shake it out. You expect me to do all the work for you?”” He rose to his feet and stretched. His sweater rode up, exposing the pale line of his stomach and the dark line of hair on his abdomen.
He really was becoming annoyingly tall. Tenzin looked away and back to the coins in the cup. She poured them into her hand and felt the moment it touched.
Gold.
She smiled and put the other money back, letting the single gold coin settle in the palm of her hand.
There was nothing like the energy gold emitted. Some would call her superstitious, but they weren’t as old as she was. They hadn’t seen the eternal metal as she had. Hadn’t felt it surrounding them.
The paltry treasure hoards of the modern age were nothing in comparison to those of kings and empresses of the past. Tenzin had walked in rooms layered in gold, had drunk blood from solid hammered goblets, had eaten food sprinkled with its dust.
She’d taken a king for a lover who painted her body with gold dust just to see her outline on silk sheets after they’d made love.
The weight of the small coin made her smile. To the less-experienced eye, it would appear Macedonian. It wasn’t. It was early Gallic, and in excellent condition.
She asked, “Where did you find it?”
“Near the bank where the stream branches.” Ben took a towel and rubbed at his hair, which had grown damp with the evening mist. “I decided to keep going with my grid for the time being, but I’m focusing on the search areas closest to the stream. If the geological surveys are correct, there’s a limited area where any cache of significance could be buried.”