Dark Descendant (15 page)

heart constricted with fear for Steph. “He’s threatened to let Alexis … hurt my sister if I don’t do

what he wants.”

Anderson hesitated a moment before answering. “I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said.

“If she’s still alive, it’s only because Konstantin thinks he can use her to control you for the time

being. He won’t allow another Descendant—even a Descendant of Artemis—to survive when he

can harvest her immortality for one of his pets. He won’t destroy you as long as you’re useful,

but your sister…”

“Steph and I aren’t related by blood,” I clarified. “I’m adopted.”

“Ah. Good. Otherwise, all your family members would be in danger.”

Yeah, I’d already figured that out. But if Konstantin was going to use Steph against me, I

had no doubt that he’d be just as happy to threaten my adoptive parents if he thought that might

make me more pliable. I could only thank my lucky stars that they were out of the country and

out of his reach, at least for now.

“If I do what Konstantin wants, he’s going to kill anyone I track down for him. Right?”

“Yes. He always makes his purges of Descendant families as thorough as possible, but

sometimes people slip through his fingers. I suspect he’s worked up detailed genealogies of all

the families he’s ever identified and has extensive lists of people he’d like to locate.”

“He gave me a list of three.”

“Trust me, that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. He’d rather present you with a short list

and try to lull you into a sense of complacency than let you know that once he’s got the leverage

he needs, he’ll set you to tracking down hundreds of people for him to kill.”

I winced. “Hundreds?”

“At least. The Olympians have been around a long time. Konstantin has been their leader

since the early fifteenth century.”

I felt momentarily dizzy at the concept. I was finally getting around to accepting that the

Liberi
were immortal, but it was still hard to absorb the idea that I’d talked to a man who’d been alive since before Columbus discovered America.

“He was bent on destroying Descendants even then, though of course it was a lot harder

before the days of modern transportation and computerized records. But just think—if he missed

a family member in one of those Descendant purges back in the fifteenth century, how many

Descendants might that person have running around today?”

I saw his point. And I once again saw that I couldn’t do what Konstantin ordered, no

matter what the risk. I blew out a frustrated breath. “Listen, I need your help.”

“Oh, do you now?” he responded, and there was no missing the calculation in his voice.

“You keep trying to convince me you’re one of the good guys,” I forged on. “If that’s the

truth, then you won’t let Konstantin and Alexis hurt an innocent woman, right?”

He thought about that a long while before he answered. “I hate to sound like a mercenary.

But I can’t forget you’re the woman who killed Emmitt and shot Blake. I’m not a hundred

percent sure that
you’re
one of the good guys. I’m sure your sister is a lovely woman, and she

doesn’t deserve whatever Konstantin has threatened. But why should I stick my neck out for her

when you’ve been so terribly … disobliging?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” I swallowed the lump of anger that rose in my throat.

He had a point, and I knew it. He wasn’t even fully convinced I hadn’t killed Emmitt on purpose,

so there wasn’t any particular reason for him to feel kindly toward me. That didn’t mean I had to

admit it.

“I’m sure that’s very clear-cut from where you’re standing, but from where I’m standing

… not so much.”

“So that’s it? I didn’t fall at your feet and adore you after you threatened to torture me,

and therefore to hell with me? And to hell with Steph? If that’s the way you feel, then why the

hell have you called me about a billion times?”

“I didn’t say to hell with you,” Anderson responded quietly, his calm making me feel like

a child throwing a tantrum. “I was explaining why I’m not going to help your sister unless you

give me something in return.”

I guess it had been foolish of me to hope that Anderson would help me out of the

goodness of his heart. It sucked that I wasn’t in a position to tell him where to shove it.

“What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I want you to find someone for me as well, but I promise it’s not for nefarious

purposes.”

Too bad I didn’t have a clue what Anderson’s promises were worth. But I also didn’t

have a whole lot of options.

“Who?” I asked, trying not to sound as wary as I felt. “And why? And please don’t give

me the runaround the way Konstantin did.”

“I won’t. But it’s rather a long story. Perhaps you should come to the house so we can

talk in person. I’ll make dinner, and we can have a civilized conversation.”

“We can have a civilized conversation anywhere,” I countered, not at all anxious to set

foot in the mansion again. The place didn’t exactly fill me with warm, fuzzy memories. “If you

want to make it a dinner meeting, choose a restaurant.”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “If we come to an agreement and I am to

protect your sister, then you will have to come live here. My … arrangement with Konstantin is

that he will not harm those who live under my roof or the families of those who live under my

roof. It’s not a perfect arrangement, and he wouldn’t hesitate to break it if he thought he could

get away with it, but it would provide your sister a great deal of protection.”

As usual anytime I had a conversation with one of the
Liberi
, I had about a million

questions. However, they were all drowned out by my outrage.

“You want me to come
live
with you?” I cried. “Are you crazy?”

“Perhaps so,” he said drily. “Offering you my protection won’t be my most popular

decision ever, but this is my house, and my rules.

“At least come have dinner with me. I promise you’ll have safe passage, even if you and I

can’t agree on a single thing.”

I shook my head, though of course he couldn’t see. “Why should I believe you won’t just

shove me back in that basement jail of yours the minute I show my face?”

“You’re asking for my help. What good is that if you trust me so little?”

Reality check time. I couldn’t protect Steph on my own. Sure, I could warn her that my

problem-client had threatened her, and she could hire some security. But I couldn’t warn her

without having to give her an explanation of the threat. If I told her the truth, she’d never believe

me. If I made up an explanation that left out all the supernatural stuff, she’d insist we call the

police. And even if I thought of a way to overcome those obstacles, who was to say human

security would be able to protect her? I had no idea what Konstantin and the rest of the

Olympians were capable of.

But Anderson did.

“All right,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll come to the house. But you’d better guarantee you

won’t let Blake or Jamaal near me. I catch sight of either one of them, and all bets are off. Got

it?”

It was an empty threat, of course. We’d already established that I needed Anderson’s

help, which left me very little bargaining power. But Anderson didn’t press the issue.

“I’ll make sure you don’t run into them,” he promised.

That didn’t make me feel a whole lot better. Anderson might be the leader of his people,

but they hadn’t so far shown themselves to be the most obedient lot.

“Would seven o’clock work for you?” Anderson asked. “Or do you need more time?”

The sooner we got this over with, the better. “I’ll be there at seven.”

“I look forward to it.”

Too bad I didn’t share the sentiment.

ELEVEN

Having been suddenly turned
into an immortal caught between two warring factions of

the
Liberi Deorum
, I hadn’t exactly had time to deal with the mundane challenges presented by

having my car totaled. I had a suspicion that wasn’t going to be changing anytime soon. My car

had been towed, but I had no idea where or by whom, nor did I know how Anderson had

explained the accident. He’d have had to offer
some
explanation, right? I mean, there was blood

all over the place—both mine and Emmitt’s—and I didn’t imagine a wrecker service would haul

the car away without any questions being asked.

If I thought there were any chance of going through legal channels peacefully, I’d have

called my insurance company about the accident. They might even have reimbursed me for car

rental. As it was, I decided that at least for now, I would ignore the whole problem. I rented a

shiny new silver Taurus, then drove out to Anderson’s mansion in Arlington.

Renting the car had taken less time than I’d thought, so I was a little early. The warmer

weather of the last couple of days had melted all the ice, but I couldn’t help the chill that ran

down my spine when I caught sight of the iron gates at the head of the driveway. A big part of

me longed to turn the car around and just go home. Pretend none of this had happened. Pretend

Steph wasn’t in danger, and I was just an ordinary woman.

Shoving down my disquiet, I lowered my window and hit the button on the intercom

outside the gates. I wasn’t sure what to say, but apparently silence was good enough. Moments

after I hit the button, there was a faint buzzing noise, and the gates parted. I dried my sweaty

palms on my pants legs as I waited for the opening to be large enough to drive through.

The visibility was a lot better today than it had been the last time I’d navigated the

twisting driveway that led to the house. Even so, I drove like a nearsighted granny, my hands

clutching the steering wheel way too tightly. My heart rate jacked up as I fought against the

memory of driving through the sleet. When I rounded the final curve and hit the straightaway, I

slowed to a crawl.

Everything had happened so fast the other night that I couldn’t really say where the exact

spot was that Emmitt had suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, nor where his body had

lain when I’d crawled out of my car. My headlights illuminated gouges in a couple of trees

beside the road—the trees that I’d plowed into. My stomach lurched, and for a moment, it as was

if I were living at both times simultaneously. I could have sworn I smelled blood and scorched

rubber.

I brought the car to a complete stop, then lowered my head to the steering wheel and

closed my eyes, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. My head was spinning and my skin

was clammy with sweat. I wondered if I was having a real live panic attack. Obviously, I had yet

to deal with the horror of that night, and I wished I could have told Steph about it. She wouldn’t

have been able to say magic words to make it all better, but just the act of talking might have

eased some of the pressure inside me.

After a while, my heart rate slowed to something just a little faster than normal, and I no

longer felt like I might pass out behind the wheel. Cautiously, I raised my head, half-expecting to

find sleet clattering against the windshield. But no, the sky was clear. The past was back in the

past where it belonged, at least for now.

Blowing out a deep breath, I put the car in drive again and proceeded to the house. I

parked in a circular drive that surrounded a decorative fountain, then got out of the car, my legs

still a little shaky from my brush with panic.

As I’ve mentioned, the house was easily big enough to be termed a mansion, and I

wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out to be a renovated pre-Civil War plantation. The

front door was framed by a series of columns and featured a porch that was bigger than some

houses I’d lived in. A cluster of elegant outdoor furniture formed an almost cozy seating area on

one half of the porch. The other half featured a whitewashed swing and several dozen potted

plants, all of hearty varieties that could survive a Virginia winter outdoors.

Anderson was waiting for me on that swing, one leg curled under him, while his other

foot pushed on the porch floor just enough to create a little motion. He was dressed in a pair of

faded denim jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, his feet tucked into sneakers that had seen better

days. The casual, comfortable outfit seemed almost out of place with the majestic mansion in the

background.

Moving slowly, as if trying not to alarm me, Anderson rose to his feet. I had to admit, I

felt extremely wary. If he’d made anything I could have interpreted as a hostile move, I’d have

been running for my car in a heartbeat. But he kept his distance, and even stuffed his hands in his

pockets for good measure.

“What happened out there?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the driveway.

I felt the blood rush to my face as I realized he’d been sitting here watching while I had

my little panic attack. If I wanted Anderson to think of me as a tough chick he didn’t want to

mess with, I wasn’t exactly going about it the best way.

I licked my lips, then regretted the nervous gesture. “I couldn’t help … remembering,” I

said, because I had to say something.

Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see, but I thought there was a softening in

Anderson’s expression. “Why don’t you come inside,” he beckoned, heading toward the door.