Love is Darkness

Chapter 9

  London, England

  Two weeks had passed since Val left school. She hadn't seen Lucas again, but true to his word, she had a bank account with a ridiculous amount of money in it and she had come to love her apartment. It was near Holborn and centrally located. She could walk almost anywhere and was close to the British Library as well as several London colleges that had extensive book collections.

  Being a loner who spent most of her time in the stacks wasn't awful. She still saw some college friends for lunch or a drink every now and again. And while she was boyfriend less that was alright too. She'd liked Ian— but it was never going to be anything permanent.

  Her daily routine was to get up around eight, shower, have breakfast and then walk to the library. Sometimes she'd come home for lunch, but usually she went to Pret a Manger and had a sandwich. She'd have a latte and a lemon bar, then go back to the library until three when she'd come home and try to put everything in order.

  Several nights a week she exercised. She ran a lot, perhaps with a hint of desperation but it helped her feel like she was in control of her life, even if she wasn't.

  She had been waiting for Lucas to give her the go ahead before going to Norfolk, wanting to see if he had any more information to give her or advice but after the third week of no contact from him she assumed he wanted her to set off on her own.

  She packed a small bag and taken the train from Liverpool station to Norwich, and everyone she spoke to warned her about the rail works at Colchester. If she came back on a Sunday there would be no service as they fixed the railroad track and she'd be punted onto a bus which would take hours! The locals were beside themselves.

  Norwich seemed like a nice enough town, a picturesque little river ran near the rail station and a few cathedrals with towering spires had been visible from the window. She rented a car and drove to a forested area near the coast, bemoaning the dismal state of Norfolk Radio. What were there, like three stations? And one of them was taken up with talk of hunting and local animal husbandry, something so dull that the radio disc jockey would have been fired if she'd been in America.

  The journey to North Walshingham took a little over an hour and she was never more than a mile or two from a house or tiny village. How had werewolves ever lived here when it was so densely populated? A werewolf would surely have been noticed, let alone a pack of them.

  Her bed and breakfast was in the middle of the town, population three thousand, with a few intersecting main streets and thatched cottages that radiated out from the center like a small star.

  The owner was a friendly widow named Mrs. Jenkins, whose husband had passed on a few years ago. Val’s room was on the second floor, up a set of creaking stairs. A black and white cat seemed to own the little house, refusing to leave her room while she unpacked.

  She'd just finished putting her toiletries into the bathroom when Mrs. Jenkins knocked on the door and announced that it was tea time if Valerie was interested. Interested? Tea was one of England's biggest selling points! Mrs. Jenkins put on a good spread which included clotted cream and freshly baked scones. Clotted cream was one of the purest joy's of Val's life. Pure because it was all cream and fat. It was like a mix between whip cream, frosting, and ice cream.

  A heart attack waiting to happen.

  The owner puttered around the dining room and tried to talk to Val, her movements birdlike and a little brittle. But she was a fountain of information and willing to talk. If Val was being polite she'd say the woman had a gift for gab. Really, Val was sure the woman wouldn't be able to shut up if her life depended upon it.

  Before Valerie could decide where to start her questions, Mrs. Jenkins took the helm. “And what brings you to North Walsingham, my dear?”

  “Oh, I'm a history student and I'm writing a dissertation on the occult. There are quite a few supernatural tales associated with this area of England.” Val said, hoping her story didn't sound too rehearsed. It was almost true.

  Mrs. Jenkins was middle aged and clearly believed that a scone a day was part of a healthy diet. Her gray eyebrows rose heavenward when Valerie explained her purpose. She had a very soft voice and a melodious accent that made Valerie feel like she could be in the middle of a murder mystery on PBS.

  “Yes. Indeed we do. One could spend several days in North Walshingham alone. It's a very superstitious town.”

  “Really? Is it still superstitious?”

  The woman tilted her head, perplexed. “Well it depends upon what you mean by superstitious.” She paused dramatically while she stirred her tea and added more sugar, nodding sagely when it was just right, “Right there on the fireplace, do you see the flowers? It's an offering to the little ones. You mustn't ask for specifics about which little ones, as it's very bad luck to speak of them and gain their attention. But, every week I put up new flowers.”

  This was better than Valerie had hoped. “Are the... little ones friendly?”

  “Heavens no! One can only try to placate them and hope they make mischief elsewhere.”

  “Did they live around here?”

  “You wouldn't go looking for them, would you?” There was real concern in Mrs. Jenkins voice. The woman leaned forward, looking at Val's face as though to see the truth more clearly.

  “No. Oh, no. I was just wondering if I should avoid any places in town.”

  The woman seemed mildly appeased, slumping back in her chair.

  “They are gone now, though?” Val asked.

  Mrs. Jenkins shot her a canny glance and Val decided a bit of sympathy might go a long way to getting more information from the woman.

  “Actually, Mrs. Jenkins, I have to confess that I also put flowers up every week. I just buy them from Tesco down the road- nothing fancy- but I have studied so much and heard so many strange and true stories that I would almost be afraid not to!” Valerie laughed nervously.

  There was a lengthy pause and Val heard a clock ticking somewhere nearby.

  “My husband, bless his soul, he wasn't a believer. Thought it was all hogwash. So I went away, for eight days, to see my sister and when I came back, the flowers were gone and poor Harold was dead on the floor. A heart attack.” Mrs. Jenkins patted her sweater absently as though looking for a tissue. “I should have come back a day earlier. Seven days, you see.”

  “Yes. I see.” Valerie felt cold and uncomfortably clammy. She hadn't disbelieved Lucas when he'd told her about the Fey, but she supposed she hadn't really expected to find anything either.

  It was possible Mrs. Jenkins was wrong, or a kook, but Val feared there was at least some truth to her story. Mrs. Jenkins found the tissue and blew her nose noisily.

  “Would they have been so cruel? After only a day's lapse?”

  “Oh yes. Our little one is very vengeful. I suppose they all are though. But most of them are long gone.”

  “Why do you think they are gone? Why would this one still be here then?”

  “Every village and town has its history and gossip and so does ours. We all know what used to be here and we know when they left.

  “But why do you think there is one little creature left behind?”

  Local legend says that there is a little goblin who roams the woods crying, sad that he had been forgotten. I’m not saying it’s true…but most legends have some basis in history.”

  Val smiled weakly. “So why do you think he’s still here if the others are gone?

  “If I had to guess I would say he got lost when the others left. Or he could have been abandoned. It's even possible that he was too tied to the land to leave. I don't know.”

  “When would it have been abandoned?”

  “Well, people will say different things, but I suspect it was 1587.”

  “That's very precise,” Val said, surprised.

  “1587 is a pivotal year in our town's history. The town was divided, half of them leaving for America and half of them staying.”

  “You think the Fey went to the New World?”

&nb
sp; Mrs. Jenkins got a sour expression on her face. “I didn't say Fey,” She said defensively.

  Valerie took a bite of her scone and chewed slowly. “I thought the little ones were the Fey?”

  Mrs. Jenkins shrugged and looked like she was getting ready to excuse herself, smoothing her tweed skirt and dusting crumbs off her lap.

  “Why leave any behind?” Val asked quickly.

  “I couldn't say. I don't know if they did it on purpose or not. Just like them leaving: It could have been they went to America, or they could have gone somewhere else entirely. But after they left, our town became more in step with the rest of the country, less backwards.”

  Mrs. Jenkins said 'backwards' oddly and Valerie couldn't decide if Mrs. Jenkins was angry that the old ways had been abandoned, relieved or maybe even frightened. Her tone had been weary, her faded brown eyes roaming the room restlessly.

  “I don't think we should talk about it any longer, just to be cautious, but if you are still interested, you should go to the town museum at the end of the road.”

  Valerie finished her tea and a second scone (with an even larger helping of clotted cream and strawberry jam) then took her leave to find the museum. Stepping out the door, Val was doused in a drizzle, which she despised. A drizzle had all the wetness of rain but was more insidious, like a rain sneak attack.

  The museum was open but no one was there. Valerie made the requested two pound donation and looked around, captivated by the history of the area.

  In 1587, almost half the village left for the New World, going to Roanoke, South Carolina. The name was familiar, but she wasn't sure why. She found an explanation on the other side of the room.

  Roanoke was 'The Lost Colony'.

  115 men, woman and children had vanished, never to be seen again.

  The first English child born on American soil had been Virginia Dare, born just a few months after the colonists arrived.

  When a ship had come from England bringing supplies, they found the colony abandoned. No sign of attack or illness—just vanished.

  The fate of Virginia Dare captured people’s imaginations, leading to stories that she’d survived and been adopted into an Indian tribe.

  There was something so sad about all those people missing. Thinking they’d made a choice for a new life only to vanish.

  On her way back to the bed and breakfast she saw Dare Lane and decided to take a detour. The little lane ended in front of a Tudor style home that had a wolf carved into the lintel above the front door. Had the Dare’s been werewolves?

  Was that why it was carved there? The house was empty and owned by the town, used only for meetings which made it impossible for her to go in and look around.

  The rain picked up and Valerie hurried back to her room searching the internet for more information about the Lost Colony. She also wanted to reread the information Lucas had given her.

  The colonists had vanished, leaving behind three letters carved into a tree: CRO.

  She found the file Lucas had given her and read through it again. There was nothing in the wolf reports for CRO but in the index she found a single mention bunadh na cro which was Celtic and translated to Host of the Hills, another name for The Fey.

  Assuming everything Lucas had told her was true, then the villagers who had left had been werewolves, fleeing England to escape persecution. They had landed in Roanoke only to disappear three years later.

  Was that why CRO had been carved into the tree? To tell people they’d been abducted by the Fey?

  Back in her room she checked the time table for trains and discovered that if she hurried, she could make the last one out and sleep in her own bed. She packed quickly and left, calling Lucas on her cellphone as she drove back to Norwich. What would his voice sound like on the phone, she wondered and felt a little breathless at the thought.

  The call went straight to voicemail with no message or greeting. Considering how terse Lucas usually was, it shouldn't have been a surprise. She left a message saying she had found something and would be home late tonight.

  It was 10:30 p.m. by the time she got home. She went into the kitchen and was startled to see a huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter. There were hydrangeas and roses, tulips and some others she couldn't name. There was also a bottle of wine sitting next to it with two glasses. She found a note. It didn't say anything, just an incredibly luxurious L written boldly on the page.

  Val dropped the note like it had thorns, and wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans. Geez, she was in trouble. The Vampire King was sending her flowers and setting her up in an apartment. As a bonus, if she didn't do what he wanted, he might kill everyone she loved or at least let it happen.

  And yet her heart was pounding and she was wondering if she should put on some lipstick. She was drawn to him. No, it was worse than that. When Lucas was near her, she almost craved him. It was sick and weird.

  The moment Lucas was gone, sanity returned and she could see the danger she was in, how close her death might actually be, and then she was afraid. But when he was with her, the fear was almost gone. She had to remind herself to be afraid of him since all she wanted was to touch him.

  She heard a knock on the door, surprised at how quickly he was responding to her call. If she was this closely monitored she should be worried. Opening the door, expecting to see Lucas, she was surprised to find Jack instead.

  Her heart gave an extra beat as she looked at him. He leaned against the door frame in a pose of total confidence and boredom. Jack straightened, giving her a huge smile before grabbing her in a hug.

  She had the urge to tell him everything. Confide in him and have him fix her problems like he used to. But he couldn’t fix this. She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of him, the feeling of being squeezed tight and then he let her go.

  His gray eyes were dark, his skin pale as though he was tired from days of too little sleep. His dark brown hair was too long, the ends curling against the back of his olive colored cashmere turtleneck. She stood back and swept her arm wide, inviting him in. Giving her a small nod, he walked into her apartment, looking around him with curiosity.

  “This is nice. Makes much more sense, who wants to live in a dorm?”

  “Thanks.” She wondered if he’d ask anything else. Like he’d suddenly turn around and shout twenty questions at her until she started blabbing about Lucas.

  She'd left college and sent him an email telling him she didn't like the dorm and had decided to use some of the money her mom left her to move out. As far as he knew, she was still in school.

  Shit the flowers!

  Jack was already in the kitchen, the paper in his hand. “Who is L and why has he left you a very expensive bottle of wine?”

  “Hello,” she said sarcastically, “and how nice it is to see you too! What business is it of yours?” Carefully, he set the piece of paper down on the counter then walked out of the kitchen.

  “Why do you even know how expensive the wine is?” Was he a big wine connoisseur?

  He went to her sofa and sat down on the crème leather, slouched down and put his arms on the back of it possessively. Stick a beer in his hand, turn on the game, and he might never leave, she thought.

  Jack looked at her again and straightened. Why was he so fidgety? “It's Italian. The vineyard was near my home. The owner threw a party once a year when the grapes were in. It ain't cheap.”

  The coincidence was scary. How likely was it that the one winery Lucas had chosen was coincidentally next to where Jack grew up? She felt sick to her stomach knowing that it wasn't chance. Did Lucas also know that Jack would see the bottle of wine? Was that why he'd left it and brought the flowers? To piss off Jack and tell her that he knew Jack's movements and what he was up to? She wouldn't be surprised if this was all some elaborate game of Lucas'. He'd told her he'd spent the last 1600 years scheming. She hoped she was being paranoid.

  “What's going on Jack?” Val asked, needing to focus on one thing at a t
ime.

  “I’m worried about you. I came to bring you some weapons. Make sure you were okay here.”

  “Why?” Her anxiety cranked up another notch and she felt like she'd had six cups of coffee; wired and nauseous.

  “There are too many vampires in town. It's weird. I've never heard of so many being in one place at one time since Italy.” His eyes met hers quickly and studied her.

  “Why do you think they are here?” she asked.

  “That's what I wanted to ask you.”

  Her heart pounded. Did he know about Lucas? What would he do if he did? Oh right, he'd get his death wish fulfilled.

  “You've been sniffing around for a couple of months and now a whole cadre of vampires turns up in your city. Maybe you were not careful enough.”

  The jerk! Why did he assume it was her fault? He was the one who went around killing vampires and he thought she was responsible? Val wanted to tell him that there was no way it was her fault. All the information she'd given them over the last few months had come straight from Lucas. Her sole job was to fact check it and then send it on to Jack.

  Lucas was still holding back information on Marion and had given her nothing more since that meeting in the cafe. Jack had nothing to go on. He'd gone straight to Geneva after leaving Val in Hampstead, determined to find Marion and no doubt kill her.

  After tracking down where the photo was taken, staking out the major hotels and even hacking into some local computer systems, including the police department, he’d run out of leads.

  Now he was getting impatient and Val feared it would make him reckless.

  Val slumped down onto the couch next to him.

  “I brought you a sawed off shot gun with wood and silver shot, along with 30 bullets.”

  She was surprised. “That sounds like a lot.”

  “I wanted to get you more but it's taking a while. We've been distributing it to Hunters all over and it's made a big difference. The kill rate has increased while injuries have decreased. So, good work on that front.”

  “Yeah, but it's not easy to walk around with a sawed off shotgun and be unobtrusive.”

  “It's also illegal to have guns in the UK. Which is why you are taking this too.” He sounded pleased with himself, holding something small and black out to her.

  “This is just a taser.” Val said, sounding a little disappointed.

  “Oh, ye of little faith. It's more than a taser. It's been specially modified, and interestingly, it will incapacitate a vampire for about thirty seconds.”

  This was fantastic. “How did you get this?”

  Jack shrugged, “I'm not sure you really want me to answer that question.”

  She gave him an irritated expression.

  He sighed and answered her, “Now that we've been using the shotguns we have wiggle room. The vampires are weaker, manageable so we don't have to kill them immediately. We've been trying out a couple of things. This is the most successful.”

  Torture, that's what he was telling her. Val imagined bleeding vampires being chained to a wall and experimented on. Her mother had been killed by a vampire, and maybe if they'd had these weapons her mother would still be alive. Her conscience could live with evil vampires being tortured before they were killed. Resolutely, she kept her eyes fixed on the taser instead of looking at Jack.

  “What are you going to do now that London is infested with vampires?”

  “I've got back up for you. Smith and Duncan flew in today and are going to be shadowing you just in case.”

  That was not a good plan. “I'm sure they could be put to better uses.”

  “It's not worth the risk.” Jack patted her leg in forced casualness. She knew he'd be devastated at her death. How he'd endanger himself worrying about her, when he should be fighting vampires. But, what if having the two extra Hunters as back up saved his life? If he died when backup had been stuck babysitting her ass, she'd be the one who couldn't live with the outcome.

  “What will you be doing?”

  “Lucas is here.”

  “What?” Terror iced through her.

  “Don't worry. He won't come near you, I promise.”

  Of course, he'd misunderstood her reaction. She knew Lucas was here. Her concern was that he'd go after Lucas and get himself killed, not that Lucas was coming after her.

  “How do you know he's here?”

  “We have our sources. Actually, we have more than a source. One of his own vampires is feeding us information. She told us he was here and even gave us a picture of him.” He pulled out a picture of Lucas. It was black and white, taken with a telephoto lens.

  “Who is she and why is she giving you information?” This was odd.

  “Her name is Rachel and she says there is dissension in the ranks. She wants Lucas gone and has offered her support if we try to take him out. She says there are others who will follow her lead. But I think that last part is bullshit. She’s working for someone else. She's just the representative.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She’s not powerful enough to control the vampires. Don’t worry about how I know, I just do. Research her too. She's given us some other stuff that's checked out but there is no reason to take her at her word.

  “What are you going to do?” Her voice was surprisingly steady.

  “Taking out Lucas would solve a lot of problems and disorganize them which could only be good for us.”

  “When?”

  “I'll let you know. It's going to take people. I have six Hunters here but two are dedicated to you. I've got three more coming in tomorrow and then we'll see. We know his movements.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, don't go to the Dorchester Hotel and Val if you see him, you run.” Tension radiated from him.

  “Jack, it's stupid to keep two guys watching me when they could be helping you. I swear I won't leave here until you tell me to. Keep them with you. Please?”

  He looked at his watch, indecision on his face. “No, I want them here with you.”

  Hysterical laughter bubbled within her, “I'm just as worried about you as you are about me. You know how much I care about you. Don't waste them on me when they could back you up. I’ll stay here and read a book. Please.” Reaching for him, she took his hand and he squeezed her hand back, nodding his head jerkily.

  “Shit. Okay, I have to go. You swear to me you won't leave here until I tell you?” Val nodded. Jack wasn't convinced he was making the right decision, she could see the doubt on his face. On his way to the door he threw a final glance at the kitchen, examining the flowers and wine. He gave her a tight smile but kept himself carefully neutral. “Have a good night. Don't leave this place, got it? I'll call you tomorrow and we can discuss this again.”

  They hugged, her arms wrapping around his waist and filling her with a sense of calm and peace. Jack was made for her, she thought, curving herself against his muscled frame. A soft kiss landed on her head and he was gone.

  As soon as Jack left she went to her purse and found Lucas's card. Even in her state of near panic, she admired the thickly textured card. Very classy. She called both numbers but he didn't pick up, forcing her to leave another message.

  There was nothing she could do and Val desperately needed to do something. She went to the computer and checked the society pages, wondering if any of the vampires had turned up in there. She checked all the names, adding Rachel to her list of vampires that she was always looking for, including Marion and Dmitri.

  Because she was always looking for them. They were glory hounds and she'd found pictures of both Marion and Dmitri holding a glass of champagne, and smiling brightly for the camera more than once.

  Nervousness ate at her and she felt like she needed to get out and go for a walk, or a drink, but she couldn't. She'd told Jack she'd stay here and she would.

  In resignation, she closed all her curtains, then opened the wine. It really was very nice. If she couldn't help, she'd drink. Food would be good too. No ne
ed to be worried on an empty stomach. She hoped there was more than yogurt in the fridge. She needed to go to the grocery store.

  Opening the fridge, she found one of the most amazing fruit and cheese plates she'd ever seen. There were little squares of toast and water biscuits, bree and chevre as well as some roasted nuts. Even some fig compote, which was to die for.

  For someone who didn't eat, Lucas sure knew his food. She was totally distracted and absorbed with the cheese when she realized she wasn't alone. Lucas walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen. Val finished chewing and washed her hands, then poured him a glass of wine and handed it to him.

  How domestic, she thought sickly.

  “What is going on?” She asked him immediately.

  “To what do you refer?”

  “Why are all these vampires in town? The last time there were this many vampires around, or at least obvious, Jack's parents were killed and there was a huge bloodbath. This can't be good.”

  Lucas was very still for a moment, then brought the wine to his lips and took a drink. Was he buying time to think?

  “Where is your information from?”

  Val might need to be careful here. “The Hunters know. There are several on their way now.” He didn’t need to know that there were several Hunters here already.

  He gave her a predatory smile and she didn’t know why. If it was just meant to unsettle her, it worked.

  “Do you still promise that you will protect Jack and Nate?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does that promise mean? We talked about that before, how binding something was. What my expectations were and there was no agreement. How much protection do they get?”

  Lucas went to her couch and took a seat, motioning for her to join him. He was dressed in black wool slacks and another white collared shirt that had two buttons open at the top so she could see the hollow of his throat. His long hair was loose and she was again struck by the beauty of him: square jaw, blue eyes, full lips and large, heavy limbs. He ate up her couch. A sunlit knight with power and lethal grace.

  The fancy clothes couldn't disguise him.

  “What do you think they need protection from?” His eyes studied her and she tried not to flinch away from his gaze. “They have my protection from myself and other vampires that I command and you want to know if there is a caveat?”

  She gave a jerky nod.

  Lucas set down his wine glass and spread his arms along the back of the couch, making her wait. Each second that ticked by stressed her out just a little bit more so that she wanted to pull her hair out by the time he spoke again. “You ask me what I will do when he attacks me?” That final word was deeper and darker than the rest. “Will I protect them at cost to myself?” His voice was preternaturally soft, his gaze locked on her face, making her feel like he was reading her again, knew all that she was thinking just from her expressions and his centuries of existence.

  “Are other vampires giving information to the Hunters?” Val asked.

  “No.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes as though he had a tension headache. Was that possible?

  “You're wrong. Maybe that challenge to your authority is coming sooner than you think.” Val wanted to sigh in relief, perhaps she did have a bargaining chip. She blinked and he was standing before her, yanking her off the couch like a ragdoll, pushing her against the wall, his forearm across her windpipe in a slick move that was too fast to see.

  His body was almost flush with hers and she felt the threat of his weight and strength, even though his arm was barely touching her neck. None of it had hurt, he’d been gentle with her, but it was still a threat. Still shocking.

  His eyes changed color to a blue so dark it was almost black.

  “Who?” he asked and his voice sent shivers down her spine. That was the voice of a king. A voice that held conviction, authority and death.

  Val closed her eyes, afraid of him compelling her. “I want them safe. I want all the Hunters safe.” Her pulse thundered through her veins and her voice came out a whisper.

  “No. I cannot save them all and I will not save them all. We are discussing Nate and Jack alone. The name for their safety should they attack me. That is what you want, yes?”

  His body was ice cold, frost seeping through her clothing, touching her skin until her bones ached. Her eyes opened and fixed on the pulse point of his neck where his shirt was open so she didn't meet his gaze. A pulse beat there as though he were human.

  She cried out at the painful cold.

  Lucas said something unintelligible and quiet then dropped his head down, his lips close to her throat.

  The need to fight and scream urged her onwards. Raising her arms, she tried to push away from him before he bit her. But he was too strong, too wide and tall. His whole body covered hers easily, kept her locked in place and unable to move like he was a large cage.

  Lucas lifted his head from her neck, a look of purpose on his face as he maintained the effort to warm her.

  “It's not enough.” His voice was gravelly and she didn't know what he was talking about. Val breathed in slowly, her breasts touching his chest with each inhalation and tried to remember the conversation.

  Oh, the name wasn't enough for their protection if they came for him.

  “It is enough. You are making up all the rules. You can accept that if you choose to!”

  “Then I choose not to. It's not enough. I can find out who the traitor is.”

  “But not with subtlety, not without giving away that you know someone has turned against you.”

  “If you don't give me the name, I will be forced to allow the attack upon my person. Then they will all die. All your Hunters....As a display of what I can do.” The last was a whisper.

  “Mass murder is not going to get you into my panties.” She wondered why these stupid things came out of her mouth. She tried to change the subject, talking of her panties could only cause her trouble. “What if one of them gets lucky? Six Hunters attack you at once? At least one of them has to get a good shot at you, right? Is that enough to tip the scales? Vampires and Hunters come at you at once, are you sure you can you survive that?”

  Inexplicably, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. It was for Jack and her father only, she told herself. It was fear for good men and the danger they were all in, herself included, none of it was for Lucas.

  He saw the tear slide down her cheek and frowned. He tensed and for a second she thought he might lick the tear from her cheek. Instead he pushed away from her, leaving her cold again, her back to the wall and her breathing ragged.

  Lucas walked to the window, looking down at the street, then turned back to her “Are you so skillful at deceit? I can see your sorrow on your face and feel it in my body.” She wondered if that was true. Could he sense it, feel her emotions? He said it like it made him feel dirty.

  She took a deep breath, then another, refusing to look at him.

  “They will be safe. Tell me the name.” His rich voice cut through her, caressed her, the weight of his promise almost tangible on her skin.

  “You won't hurt Jack and Nate even if they attack you?”

  A terse nod of agreement.

  Gulping, Val said the name before she lost her nerve, “Rachel.”

  Smiling, he put down the glass again. His hands went to his pockets and he casually walked back to her. Playing human again.

  “Tomorrow night there is a party. I will come for you at six. I am sending a modiste at ten. Choose what you like.”

  She went to the couch and sat down, looking at him from across the room. He stayed standing, walking to the window to stare at the traffic below and the lights of the city.

  “Is Rachel likely to kill you?”

  Lucas shook his head slowly. “Rachel is nothing. She is barely old enough to kill a human bare handed. She would not dream of attacking me outright. She works for another. But I am surprised that either of them are willing to try.”

  “Why? You can
't be that indestructible, can you?”

  “My ability to recover from injuries is unparalleled. It is my strength, speed and age that have kept me unchallenged for centuries. I can go into the sunlight, dematerialize repeatedly and feed infrequently. For one as old as I am, the dangers are different.”

  Val waited for him to continue and watched his broad back, her gaze dipping down to his ass, imagined sinking her nails into it as he—

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Stupid, nonsensical reactions.

  She looked at her nails instead. They were painted shiny red, the nails short. She wore a silver ring she'd bought in Covent Garden that had two semi-precious stones set in the middle.

  He sighed. “Boredom and ennui are the true dangers for a vampire over 500 years old. What is left to live for when everyone we have loved is long dead? Relationships become repetitive and trite. We become exhausted. At my age, suicide is the most common form of demise.”

  Oh. “Do you want to kill yourself?”

  “Not just at the moment,” He said dryly. “I have goals, things to accomplish before I consider anything so permanent. I want change for my people. That is a goal worth living for.”

  “Why wouldn't they just wait for you to kill yourself instead of challenging your directly?” Val asked, trying not to think of the ramifications of his dying, but keep the questions matter of fact.

  “Either impatience or because those who would rule do not have the power to do so unless they steal it from me.”

  “Vampires can steal power?”

  He turned from the window, came back towards her and sat down in the chair opposite her. His hand covered his eyes for a moment as though he was tired. “Blood is power. My strength is contained in my being. I can will power into my blood and transfer it to those below me, if I choose. It means I can both feed and reward my people. It can also be a punishment. I can drain power from those below me if I feed from them.”

  “Do you get extra powers, like turning into a bat, by being older?”

  “Speed, strength all increase. Dematerializing is something that only comes with age. But most things are myth. Even capturing someone with a gaze is atypical. It is a neat trick, but very rare.

  “But you can do it.” She’d experienced it. The memory came to her of when she’d met him in the woods, looking almost the same as he did now, and how he’d offered to take her fear from her so she could kill the vampire who was attacking her. She’d gone willingly, let down every shield she had, giving herself to him.

  “Yes, I can do it.”

  He stood and walked away from her, going towards her bedroom and disappearing as he reached the short hallway.

  She hadn't told him anything about the wolves. Although a revolution probably trumped that anyway.

  A modiste, huh? She didn't know anyone said the word modiste outside of a regency romance novel. Maybe they didn't and he was two centuries behind.

  That fit.